Life with Joy
by cinnysangel
Summary: Everyone had a life before the outbreak, including Daryl Dixon. He lived his life with Joy.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The Walking Dead, AMC or any of their affiliates. This is purely for entertainment purposes and is a fan created fiction. This story does not reflect the actual Walking Dead series and doesn't claim to be anything but a fan (me) expressing my appreciation for the characters and the wonder that is The Walking Dead. All OFC's (Original Fictional Characters) are a product of my own imagination. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.**

**This Story is based on what would Daryl's life be like before the outbreak. It does not go along the lines of the show and is completely from my imagination. It is rated M because it contains detailed sexual encounters, strong language and may not be suitable for all readers. Please follow the guidelines set by FanFiction regarding the ratings. Thank you for your reviews they are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!**

**This story is currently going through a rewrite 8/24/13**

**Life with Joy**

**Chapter 1**

Today my attitude wasn't living up to my name. Most days I didn't feel like I should have been named Joy. My mother claimed that Joy seemed like the only logical name for me because her and my father had tried unsuccessfully for years to have a baby and when I came into the world she was overjoyed. My father never passed up an opportunity to remind her that my first months on earth weren't such a joy. I was a colicky, fussy baby that had her days and nights mixed up. After I settled down some and began to grow she quickly realized I wasn't the sweet little girl with a happy name. Still my mother tried to dress me up in frilly dresses, lacy socks and patent leather shoes. Before I even left the house the dress was stained the shoes were scuffed and my hair looked like it had been combed with a blender.

.

I never grew out of being a tomboy or a night owl. Now though I loaded up on caffeine to trick myself into thinking I was an early riser. And I chose simple clothing with a slight sexy style. My lipstick was always red, my nails usually black and my hair long and layered. I liked big, dark sunglasses and comfortable clothing, jeans and a t-shirt, although I did wear them a little snug. Not by choice I had a sweet tooth and never met a cake I didn't love. I went to weddings for the cake. I stalked my bakery and stared though the window like a child longing for the puppy in the cage at a pet store. To combat my sweet tooth I ran miles on my treadmill. I also lifted weights, twelve ounces at time on Saturday nights.

.

My personality comes from my father. He tries to deny it, yet every time I called home he had a list of people who had died, a detailed story of his last bowel issue, and a dirty joke he heard at the VFW. My mother always scrambled for the phone in hopes that she could stop my father from corrupting me too much and not interfere with the plans she had to get grandchildren. My mother believed the only way I would ever land a man long enough to get hitched was if I stopped listening to my father's dirty jokes.

.

My mother started every conversation the same way, "How's your love life? Did you get any new jewelry?" She always changed the subject without getting an answer because I think she had resigned herself to the fact that I was too much like dad. My dark sense of humor and cynical heart scared potential "sperm donors" as I called them, away. The truth was I wanted kids. I really wanted the whole settle down, buy a house, raise a hoard of obnoxious little smartasses, and live happily ever after kind of life. The problem lies in the type of men I always ended up with. Soft, want to talk about their feelings, metro sexual type of guys that spend more time staring at themselves in the mirror than paying attention to me. My current boyfriend was no different. I always chose the pretty boys. Or maybe they chose me because I didn't out shine them.

Even with the guilt and the crazy conversation I missed having my parents here in Georgia with me. They moved to Florida when I moved to New York City. They lived in the retirement capitol and spent their retirement days in cold storage playing bingo and watching TV. My mother swore it wasn't as hot in Florida as it was in Atlanta. I thought that was ridiculous until today. Today the Atlanta heat was stifling. The sky was a washed out grey haze with no blue in sight. That haze extended almost to the ground where it was broken up by the waves in the air from the heat radiating off of the blacktop. I was in my car, a 1991 Honda Civic, stuck once again on Interstate 75. I wished I had worn shorts this morning. My jeans felt like they were melting into my skin. Even my cotton t-shirt was too heavy. I had a wife beater style tank shirt in my gym bag. I debated the benefits of changing into it while sitting here in traffic. I took a look around at the other vehicles. A pair of large SUV's flanked my left while a pickup truck sat firmly on my rear bumper. He was so close that I swore I could count the hairs in the driver's goatee. I was mildly tempted to throw the car in reverse to knock his cellphone out of his hand.

.

I ruled against that temptation, reminding myself that I got 31 miles per gallon highway. And that my air conditioner was capable of freezing half a steer in less than an hour; as long as the beef was positioned on top of the dashboard and directly in my line of vision. I flicked on my wiper blades once more to clean the frost that was accumulating in an oblong shape on the outside of the windshield. I was impressed that the heat index was well over 100 degrees and my tiny rust covered, gold and primer Honda was capable of turning itself into a slushy machine. But sadly my superior attitude was immediately knocked down by a trickle of sweat as it ran between my breasts. Today my old reliable rust bucket had decided to cool only that one section of glass leaving the rest of the car's temperature set at easy bake oven. I made a futile attempt to fan myself with my empty rent envelope. I planned on dropping the envelope into the mail slot minus one very important detail, the check for the rent. It was my sneaky way at buying an extra day or two before I actually had to pay the bill. Payday could not come fast enough.

.

My lips were drying out in spite of the humidity in the air. I searched through my purse until I found a near melted chap stick. I tilted the rearview mirror to look at my reflection, getting a glimpse of hairy chin's air guitar solo. I rolled my eyes, but seeing him rock out made me miss my car radio. It had been stolen last year from the Wine and Spirit Shoppe I was employed at. The thief not only ran off with my radio he nabbed a box of glazed doughnut I had sitting on my passenger seat. I was still pissed off about the doughnuts.

.

My lips were worse than I thought. I picked at the flaky skin a few minutes before caking on the cherry Chap Stick. I knew what men thought of my plump lips. They called them cock sucking lips. While woman just assumed I had injections. They also assumed I had breast implants. I hadn't had either. I was the proud owner and producer of my own fat cells, thank you. I just wished less of them accumulated on my ass.

.

While I was critiquing my body and its flaws, my cellphone rang. By the time I got to it my voicemail had robbed the call and was holding it hostage. One glance at my caller ID told me it was Kevin. Probably calling about our date tonight, he always liked to remind me to be on time. Sadly I rarely was. We had been dating for a few weeks, around a baker's dozen give or take a few weeks. During the absent times in our relationship I hadn't seen or heard from him because he was busy with his career. Kevin played bass in a very popular local band that was finally getting their big break. By big break I mean he had out of town gigs. Kevin liked to tell me he had a recording contract. They just needed to iron out all the details. Details like what century they would enter the studio. None of this mattered to me. I enjoyed his company and judging by his eagerness to spend the night at my rundown loft apartment, I believed he enjoyed mine.

.

I ran my hand through my long hair, sending it cascading back onto my shoulders. The woman sitting in the passenger seat of the SUV next to me caught my eye for a second and then her eyes trailed to my breasts. A minute later she beeped the horn and held a piece of paper with her phone number scrawled on it along with a little heart. I knew she had noticed the rainbow sticker in my rear window. It was there when I bought the car and I left it on. I had never pitched for that team although I was perfectly happy to cheer from the stands. I always believed in equal rights for everyone, so for me, showing my support with a sticker was A-Okay. I rolled my eyes thinking I sounded like my mother by using a phrase like A-Okay. Was I getting old?

.

I redialed Kevin and got his voicemail. I waited for the prompt. "At the tone..." I rolled my eyes, worst voicemail prompt ever. I wanted to tell it to get a personality, the reason I didn't was because it was Kevin's voice instructing me to "leave a message at the beep." You're in a band, I thought, why don't you sing this, or have a rad song playing? This was a voicemail message from a sixty year old man, not a thirty eight year old rock star. My complaints were cut short by an actual beep from a car horn, coming from Mr. hairy chin behind me. The traffic had moved three feet while I was playing phone tag with my boyfriend. I muttered a New York greeting of, Fuck you and your grandma, while putting the car into gear. I moved the car two and a half feet, deliberately irritating the hell out of hairy chin, who flipped me the bird. It was that moment that I realized I just told Kevin's voicemail to go fuck itself. Instead of redialing again, I responded to the beep my phone gave me, indicating I had a new voicemail. I suddenly realized my phone was just as dull as Kevin's. They were made for each other. My smart phone had a socially awkward soul mate.

.

Kevin's voice echoed in my ear. "Joy…" Long pause followed by a heavy sigh. Oh boy I thought here comes the, I need space speech. I've heard it from him before. Kevin went on. "I don't know how to tell you this other than come out and say it." Another long pause. "Joy, I'm in love." The voice mail cut off and my phone beeped again this time a text message. My hands were shaking so badly I couldn't push the button to retrieve the message. He had just told me he loved me on voicemail and now he was going to follow that with a text? Who does that? I had to get my head straight. I had to decide what I was going to text back. I was tempted to semi colon him a smiley face. What the hell, were we in high school or something? I finally got the nerve to view the text. "I didn't mean for this to happen, it just did. I'm sorry Joy. Maybe if we tried harder we could have had something together. But you can't fight fate and destiny. Kim is my destiny. I hope you find yours." I sat in stunned silence, staring at my break up text. I thought about calling his voice mail again and telling it to fuck off once more, but what good would that do? I surprised myself when I realized I didn't really care that I was dumped other than the fact that he did it via text message. I calmly typed one word "dickhead" I hit end canceling the message figuring why bother. Fuck You, on voicemail got the point across.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

My Honda took the news harder than I did. It chose to have a meltdown, literally. Smoke and steam poured from the front end while thick black smoke blocked my view of hairy chin. She sputtered and "coughed" wheezing one last breath before dying right there in rush hour. More out of frustration over the fact that I was blocking a lane of traffic, hairy chin and SUV man pushed the Honda onto the shoulder of the road. I stood there at the front of my steaming car with my cellphone in hand, convincing myself that I didn't need to call Kevin. The traffic decided to add insult to injury, by suddenly clearing and whipping by me at alarming speeds. I reassured myself by thinking that at least there was a breeze. Please God I need a miracle. I suddenly wished I wasn't an only child, my parents weren't in Florida and my friends didn't live in New York City. Why did I leave New York? Oh yeah my career landed in the toilet and waiting tables and working in a deli didn't pay enough to afford my eighteen hundred dollar a month apartment. Frustrated I tossed my phone onto the front seat of my car and did what every five foot nine inch woman would do in a situation like this; I sat on the bumper of my car and cried.

.

Now I'm not very religious and I wouldn't exactly call the sweaty greasy man that climbed out of the tow truck a miracle. But out of the blue he had pulled off the highway, backed his truck to within inches of my bumper and offered some assistance. The logo on the truck read "Dixon and sons." What was it with men and riding a woman's tail lights, or in this case a woman's car and her front bumper? This asshole had his shit all up in my little girls grill. He couldn't have gotten closer if he had parked on top of the car. Of course I exaggerate and grease monkey gave just enough room to strap my baby to the lift. I watched as he stuck his head under the hood tinkered around a bit, swore, as he spit on the ground.

Oh great a real mechanic! All we need is a little ass crack. Or was that just plumbers? I honestly didn't know. I put that on the top of my Google search list as I waited for the barbarian to speak. I thought of how accurate that name was for the muscle bound man with the sleeveless greasy shirt. His pants had grease smudged down both sides, the right side sporting a perfect imprint of his hand. Nice sized hands, attached to muscular arms and wide shoulders. My eyes moved over his strong back and down to his chisels rear. His slacks were a little baggie, perhaps to leave room for the frontal region. I had to tell myself to stop looking at this man that way. He definitely would get the wrong idea if he saw me staring at his ass. I was hopeless. I think my view of men was this way because that was the way most guys looked at me, like a piece of meat. Like I said I believed in equal rights for everyone.

.

A tow truck showing up out of nowhere reminded me how vulnerable I was. As it stood right now, I was alone on the side of the road with a hulking redneck. I wasn't defenseless. I had my pepper spray and my cell phone. Never mind the fact that the pepper spray was dangling from my key ring in the ignition. I had my cell phone right here. The words died in my mind as I remembered I had tossed the phone onto the front seat of the car. Oh well I could kick him in the balls if he tried anything.

.

He pulled his head out from under the hood and stared at me with an unwavering intensity. A little shiver ran down my spine. Questions floated around inside my head about why he pulled over when I hadn't called for a tow truck. Murder mystery plots came to mind. Every horror story that involved a woman alone at night came rushing back. I felt foolish and gave myself a mental kick in the ass. Stop thinking like that, Joy, its daylight and he's not going to kill you.

He continued to watch me so I took the opportunity to study his face, in the event I would need to describe it to a sketch artist. His face was typical male, attractive if not classically handsome. He was sporting a scruffy chin. But unlike hairy chin that rode my ass on the freeway, the barbarian's was lighter colored, thinner and softer looking. His lips were like any other, nothing unique about them, well aside from the little lift they had at the corners. His eyes though, they scared the hell out of me. Crystal blue and almost almond shaped. They seemed menacing. And paired with those lips, with the cynical upward curve, I was convinced he was very dangerous. I changed my mind; there wasn't anything average about this man. Turns out barbarian wasn't the right description, psycho killer was.

.

He must have sensed my fear because he took a step closer. Maybe he had super powers and was reading my mind. I told myself to get a grip and say something already. Defuse the situation. I had read once that if you talked to crazed killers, humanizing the situation, you could confuse them, stall and possibly save yourself. I didn't believe that nonsense in the least bit because if someone wanted to kill you they weren't going to change their mind if they knew your name. Unfortunately he didn't give me the chance to talk him down.

"You have a busted radiator hose. That's the good news, the bad news I'll know the rest back at the shop. Too much going on in that pile of shit."

He spit on the ground again and I wondered if he had a chewing tobacco habit. I looked for any sign of it but decided against it because his teeth were white. I thought I was supposed to get an option of whether I wanted the good news or bad news first, before it was delivered. Maybe the barbarian/killer didn't play by the rules.

"Oh thanks. I'll call…" I was going to say a tow truck but that would have sounded ridiculous. I hooked a thumb at the car indicating that I did have a phone and I could call for help. "I'll call a friend…" I should say boyfriend but the thought of actually saying boyfriend turned my stomach. "Thanks for your help mister…"

"Names Daryl, save the mister bullshit for someone in a suit." He pulled a rag out of his pocket, used it and then shook my outstretched hand. He held it longer than necessary and stared at me again, long and hard. "No offence but that is a load of crap. If you had someone to call you would have been on the phone when I pulled up. Do you even have a phone? You could use mine if that's the issue. But I think you just don't got no one to call."

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His southerner grammar reminded me of the southern side of my family. My daddy was born and raised here while my mom was from upstate. It was why I love New York City so much. New York was part of my childhood. Then it dawned on me he was mocking me. He was thinking I was an uppity bitch that looked down on men like him. I was furious because I didn't, not in the least bit. My grandpa worked hard his whole life in a steel mill. And in that job he left his blood, sweat and tears, eventually his life too. He died years ago from asbestos poisoning.

.

I wondered where he got that hair brained idea. Did he not just look at my car? I worked hard too. I had three jobs and barely made enough money to pay my rent. I didn't act superior I just was a little afraid. I should have told him that. Maybe then he wouldn't make me feel so uncomfortable, I chose the hard road instead. "You don't know me. I didn't ask you to stop and help me out either."

.

I marched to my car and pulled on the door. I didn't yank hard enough. The door remained firmly closed. I nearly landed on my ass if it wasn't for the barbarian catching me. I had been in a car accident a few months ago and from that point on the driver's side door was hard to open. I was still leaning against him as he reached for the handle. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest and the warmth of his body. Instinctively I darted my tongue over my lips, tasting the cherry Chap Stick. Daryl put his left hand on the roof of the car, trapping me between him and the vehicle. He leaned his head over my right shoulder. For a second I thought maybe I should be afraid. A little shiver ran down my spine but it wasn't out of fear. Any thought I had in my head about this being sexy or dangerous vanished as soon as Daryl gave the door a rough pull, making it shove me up against him tighter than before. He put his hands on my biceps, making sure I was steady on my feet before stepping away.

.

I turned around a little too abruptly throwing off my equilibrium. He steadied me with his hand on my bicep once more. I felt helpless and took it out on Daryl. "I could have opened the door myself, you know. I do own this car!"

.

Daryl scowled at me. He gave me an annoyed expression that matched his words. "Aren't you just a bundle of joy?" My eyes got huge when he said my name. I looked at him carefully studying him some more. Daryl had enough of being examined by me. Impatiently he barked, "Listen, I would like to get this shit over with I got work to do. If you got triple A, they're just going to send me back out here. I'm here now let's cut the bullshit."

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I ignored his concerns about being in a rush. I put my sunglasses up onto the top of my head as I looked at him. "Do I know you?"

"What? No I never saw you a day in my life. What gives?"

"You said Joy."

Sarcastically he asked, "Is something wrong with that word?"

He was mocking me again and pissing me off. I definitely wasn't afraid of him any longer. Maybe it was because he had me mad and my mind wasn't thinking clearly anymore. Or maybe I finally realized there wasn't anything to be afraid of. "It's my name!"

"Oh brother." He rolled his eyes.

"Roll your damn eyes all you want I can be pleasant!" I remembered the reason we were having this conversation in the first place. "Look, you don't have to stay. You can go back to your busy life. Besides, I can't afford this anyway."

.

I sat down on the front seat of the car, refusing to look at his face. I concentrated on the grease drippings on the top of his boots. I didn't get to stare at them long because he walked away. Great now I'll need to walk to the nearest gas station. I was shocked when I heard chains rattling. I looked up and saw him dropping the lift on the tow truck. I grabbed my purse and my keys. I gave the door a shove with my hip making it slam shut. I tried to ignore the fact that my weight closed the door that hard. Lately I'd been living on junk food, ramen noodles, potato chips, canned ham. My diet was in shambles. Some people believed I could use to gain a few pounds but for me it just made my jeans tight and uncomfortable.

I ran to Daryl. "Didn't you hear me? If you take the car you might as well keep it because I can't pay you."

He laughed, deep and loud. "Keep this pile of shit? No thanks. I heard you twice. If I leave you here the state police will make me come back and get your skinny ass. They frown on leaving helpless females out here alone at night. Just get in the truck."

I was gripping the canister of my pepper spray and felt like giving him a shot on principle. Helpless females, where the hell did he get off calling me a helpless female? I turned around to yell at him just in time to see him flop onto his back with his head under the front of my car. I saw him shove the stops behind the tire. His arms and back muscles rippled under the material of his shirt. I couldn't help wanting to feel him wrap those beautiful arms around me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The sun was starting to set as we drove back to the garage. We weren't in the mood to carry on a conversation so we sat in silence. I looked at his hands. Protocol for driving was to position your hands on the steering wheel at ten and two. Daryl Dixon had his left hand draped over twelve and the right resting comfortably at "crotch" I tried not to look there, however, I caught myself a time or two glancing in that direction. My assumption about his baggy pants was correct, no denying he needed the extra room up front. At a traffic light I caught him looking at my chest. What could I say to that? I had been checking out his physique from the moment I saw him. Besides, a part of me had to admit he was making me feel deliciously dirty even though I believed I would never act on those feelings. The man was a pain in the ass. I knew his type, beer drinker, rowdy son of bitch that took what he wanted, when he wanted, and never gave a damn in return. Daryl Dixon was hell on wheels and Lord help the person that crossed his path.

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The garage was positioned at the end of a private road which had seen better days back in the seventies. Most of the blacktop was reduced to rubble and littered with potholes and gouge marks from years of traffic. I braced a hand on the roof of the truck and one on the dash in an attempt to stay in my seat. Daryl didn't bother to avoid any of the divots in the road. I almost thought he swerved to hit a few. Maybe he got a kick out of watching me squirm in the seat, or maybe he just wanted to watch my tits bounce. I thought I saw a smile creeping at the corner of his mouth. I braced my feet on the floor board and let go. Daryl gave me a sideways stare, making me wish he would keep his eyes on the road instead. I hinted as much by looking at him and the windshield multiple times. I tried to make my body as stiff as I could. It didn't work. The truck bounced and swerved, rattling so much I thought my car would fall off the back or I'd fall off the seat.

.

Daryl smirked at me. "It's like riding a horse, doll. The more you fight it the harder your ass takes a pounding." He laughed at his own witty humor.

I didn't find it funny. I had never been on a horse and this was just insane. "Maybe you should fix the road?"

Daryl turned his attention back to the road replying in a matter of fact way. "Road ain't broke."

.

There was a house to the left. It was a white stucco structure with a concrete slab and fiberglass carport on the right of the building. The grass was missing in large chunks and what was left was scorched brown from the heat. A Ford truck was parked at the left corner of the house on the bare dirt. I wondered why it was parked there when clearly there was a cement pad under the carport. Maybe the grass wasn't gone from the heat; maybe it was gone because these idiots drove on it. Beyond the truck I could see a small square slab step with an aluminum awning above the door. I assumed that entrance led to the kitchen.

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To our right was a large fenced in area filled with old cars, tires, and a couple of refrigerators. Lord knows what else was in that junk yard. I noticed a car that looked like an older model of my car and I wondered if my baby had found a new home. At least she would have company of her own kind. The garage faced us. The office and entrance on the left side of the building and two twin bays to the right. The garage doors were open and I saw a car on a lift in the one on the right. Daryl swung the truck to the right, parking on a smooth paved surface. I climbed out of the cab and immediately noticed we were on a public street which ended at the traffic light we had been stopped at moments before. I wanted to know why the hell he went past it and drove down that horrible road. It would have been easy for Daryl to make the right and drive straight down here. I looked up the path we came down; realizing it wasn't really a road and I doubted it had a street name. I kind of had a feeling he did that on purpose, driving past the junkyard with the chicken wire and split railed fencing. Perhaps he wanted me to see where my car was destined to end up. The movie Deliverance came to mind. I could hear the banjos loud and clear.

"Was that fun to you?" I pointed at the road.

"Yeah it was a fuckin blast!"

Daryl missed the point I was making so I spelled it out. "Why didn't you come this way?"

"Christ sakes!" he grumbled. "Know it all broad!"

.

He removed the gear from my car while I tapped my foot on the ground waiting for some sort of explanation or an apology. I was being unreasonable and I knew it. Fear made me act this way. I didn't know him and the more I looked around I realized we were out in the middle of nowhere. "What are you trying to pull?" Daryl sneered at me. The look he gave me said "you're nuts"

"You need a detailed report? Fine! I had to go down there because I can't go there…" He pointed near the house. "…because the fence and the house. If ya think you can turn the truck around in that space, be my guest!" He waited a heartbeat in time to move on knowing full well I wasn't about to volunteer to drive the truck. "Are you happy now? And if ya don't mind untying that big ole knot in yer panties I need yer help."

I never wanted to slug anyone as much as I wanted to slug Daryl Dixon. Right in the mouth. Trouble was I wanted to do other things to his mouth too. With as much contempt as I could muster I crossed my arms over my chest and said, "What do you want?"

Daryl moved to the car. He was muttering again and I listened to words like stuck up bitch, pain in my ass, worthless piece of shit… I interrupted. "She's not a piece of shit she's my baby." My car was a piece of shit but I wasn't going to agree with him.

Daryl raise his eyebrows waiting for more of an argument when it didn't come he told me what he wanted. "My brother ain't home so you're going to have to steer while I push this pile of shit into the bay. Put it in neutral and do me a favor, keep your foot off the brake."

"I've pushed a car before."

"Yeah no doubt."

I watched his muscles rippling as he strained to get my baby rolling. She was stubborn at first and he cussed while giving me a dirty look.

"You got your fucking foot on the brake?"

I didn't, but I wanted to. I yelled out of the window, "No I fucking don't!" Actually I wanted my car to miraculously start so I could run his ass over. Before that happened she began to roll and he guided her into the bay. He instructed me to pop the hood and I did without question. I had given up trying to convince him that I was flat broke. I decided that if he wanted to fix my car I was going to let him. And if he wanted to stare at my tits as payment I'd let him do that too.

.

Even with the sun just a sliver on the horizon the air was still roughly the temperature of hell. I hung back against the wall watching as Daryl tinkered under the hood, tossing car parts almost as often as fucks.

"When was the last time you changed the oil?"

I shrugged. I knew it had been over a year. I wasn't going to tell him that.

"Christ! Joy, you do know you have to change the oil in cars, right? This shit's like fucking tar!"

He was scolding me but my mind wasn't letting that part in. It was the first time he called me by my name and I swore no one had ever said it sexier. I had to stop myself from thinking anything sexy about this man. I grabbed a fist full of the t-shirt I was wearing and fanned myself with it. Daryl was using his forearm to swipe the sweat from his brow. He watched me for a moment.

"Let's go."

.

He gestured to the office door I walked through and he followed closing it behind us. Daryl flicked on the air conditioner and told me to have a seat. I opted instead to stand in front of the cool air with my shirt up an inch below my breasts. Daryl disappeared behind a tall appointment desk and into a back office. I took a quick glance around the waiting room. An L shaped section was reserved for patrons. The walls in that area were made up of seventy percent window that was tinted with peeling black clear plastic. A sign was hanging on the door, the "come in we're open" facing the inside. I assumed the other side said sorry we're closed. Two brown and beige love seats dating back to the early eighties, lined the walls below each window. One was flanked by a water cooler the other, a low narrow bookshelf with a coffee maker in the center. The coffee table was littered with rod and gun club type magazines catering to the men that came in and waited for their cars. I noticed a Playboy sticking out from under a Sports Illustrated. I smiled knowing there wasn't a woman involved in his life.

.

My back was cool enough so I turned once again, this time really allowing the air to get up under my bra. I read the sign posted high on the wall, it was crooked and I resisted the urge to straighten it. The framed document was his business license. I had to admit I was shocked by its presence. I had visions of this being an illegal shop, a chop shop if you would. Why else would he offer to fix my car and not charge me? What did he expect in return?

Daryl returned. He pressed an ice cold bottle against my bare back and laughed when I jumped. It was uncomfortable at first but then I decided it actually felt good. I took the beer from him, rolled it across my stomach and then pressed it into my cleavage. Daryl was mid sip and stopped while he watched me. His mouth dropped open and remained that way for a minute. He cleared his throat twice before he could speak.

"Your car is done."

"It's finished?" I still hadn't opened my beer.

"No I mean it's done, don't work no more." He said it slowly like I was a child that couldn't understand big words.

He plopped down on one of the loveseats and slammed his boots down on the coffee table. "You blew the engine sweetheart. I could rebuild it for you but that body ain't worth a damn. You need a new car."

"Great let me pull one out of my ass."

"I don't think you'd get a matchbox out of that thing." He looked at my unopened bottle. "You don't drink? Figures! Oh wait I bet you drink wine."

I popped the lid off of the beer and drank half of it in one swallow. He raised his eyebrows and finished his beer while standing up.

Daryl retrieved another round and we sat there for a while enjoying the cool air. We didn't talk much which didn't matter to me. There are times in life when you meet people that you instantly connect with. Looking back Daryl was one of those people for me.

.

"I'll take you home or any place you'd like to go right after I feed Moze."

I followed him to the house. I didn't care if I was invited to come along or not, I had a curiosity about the house and what exactly was a "Moze" I figured it couldn't be a dog because I would have heard barking when we pulled up. Moze didn't sound like a cats name and the only other thing I could think of was a snake. My curiosity weaned the moment I thought of a boa constrictor.

The house was clean, too clean for a pair of bachelors. Daryl put the beer bottles into the trash. He compulsively straightened the chairs at the round fifties style table. The entire kitchen looked to be torn from a page of a retro magazine. It reminded me of my grandmother's kitchen.

Daryl called out, "Moze! You worthless animal where are you? Mosey!"

I heard nails on linoleum behind me. I almost didn't want to see what was back there. At least it wasn't a snake. Moze let out a low howl that sounded like he had laryngitis.

"Oh my God he's so cute!" Mosey turned out to be a senior citizen in dog years. I ruffled the basset hounds floppy ears. He happily accepted the attention, flopping on his side to show me his under carriage and want for a belly scratch. What was up with men and showing off the package? And we all know they love a good scratch. Daryl opened a can of dog food, dumping it into a navy blue food dish. I watched Mosey eat, falling in love with Daryl's adorable dog.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Daryl walked into the living room and turned on a light. It was a long narrow room with the front door centered on the wall to the right. Another door was in a dark corner of the room parallel to a flight of stairs that went up and over the kitchen. I assumed it led to the car port. Along the wall that housed the staircase sat a couch that matched the material of the loveseats in the garage. Above it was mounted a huge deer head. A dark brown recliner was basically sitting in the center of the room giving just enough space to pass by the couch to get to the stairs. The couch and recliner faced a large screen TV, first edition. I thought that sucker must weigh about five hundred pounds. I noticed family photos on the wall above the TV. What really caught my attention were a few empty spaces as if someone had come in and stolen a few photos. Tobacco stains formed a perfect outline of the now gone frames. I didn't want to be rude by inspecting them so I remained in the doorway to the kitchen.

.

Daryl came back into the kitchen and we stood at opposite ends looking at one another. I felt like he was judging every movement I made and it had me nervous. He sensed it and spoke softly. I decided I liked the sound of his voice. I decided I liked a lot about him. I warned myself. Joy you have really bad judge in character when it comes to men. Something inside of me argued, not this one.

"I might be able… to get ya… a reliable car, make sure… its running alright."

He chewed on his thumb nail between words, while looking up at me with only his eyes. I thought he seemed embarrassed by the offer to help me. Perhaps maybe he thought I would turn him down flat or maybe tell him he was insane for suggesting assistance. Daryl was very much like a wounded animal, one kept in a cage too long. I took a look around the kitchen, the outdated furniture, the lack of anything feminine or homey, the absence of food. Even on my salary there was a box of Cheese-itz and a can of tuna fish on the counter. I almost asked him if it would be a legal. I scolded myself this time, mentally berating my suspicious attitude. I answered honestly. "I don't know if I can get enough cash together to buy a new car."

Daryl finally lifted his chin and looked at me squarely. He leaned back against the counter and rested his elbows. "Don't matter; we can keep it in my name until you can pay it off. It won't be new."

I was going to owe this man my life after everything he did for me. I felt guilty for thinking bad things about him and treating him the way I did. My voice got softer, almost shy. "You saw what I was driving. Anything would be better than that."

He laughed. "But that is your baby."

I found myself laughing almost like I was drunk. I did drink the beer rather quickly trying to prove a point that I could drink. I had stopped worrying about his motives. For some reason I felt like I could rely on Daryl Dixon. I felt taken care of. The world could go to shit and I would want Daryl in my life to protect me.

.

We stared at each other for a little while longer. He didn't offer to take me home and I wasn't ready to rush out the door either. The little voice of negativity was still yapping inside my head but my emotions told it to shut the fuck up, Daryl was something special. At least I hoped he was. I needed proof there were decent men out there, someone that would really take care of a woman. Daryl was saying all the right things. Softly I asked, "Why are you doing this?"

His southern drawl came out thicker than before. "Cause you got a nice ass."

I laughed knowing he was being a smart ass and I also knew there was some truth in that statement. I knew he liked my breasts too by the way he kept stealing glances. I tried to think of what I liked most about him. I hoped it wasn't the size of his package. I couldn't decide what attribute impressed me more. The man was beautiful. I had watched his mouth a lot and wondered what his lips tasted like, probably beer. I needed to know if there was more than a physical attraction. I couldn't deny I was into his body, the lean, strong arms, broad shoulders and cut chest made me hotter than a June bride, but his eyes I couldn't ignore them. Yes they scared me still and I wouldn't want that glare to be directed at me in anger. They pulled me in and made me want to know what he was thinking and feeling. I warned myself again, Daryl was a dangerous man. That didn't stop me from crossing the kitchen. His kindness had gotten to me. He reached a soft spot in my heart and I couldn't control myself. His eyes remained locked on mine as I walked closer to him. I felt as if his stare cut me to the bone. I was exposed in his eyes, yet I didn't stop. I put my hands on his face. "Thank you Daryl, for everything."

.

He was slouching when I touched him. He stood to his full height, his hands landed on my hips. I should have told him to move them. I knew I shouldn't have moved in closer. Daryl was only about an inch, inch and a half taller than me. He squinted, studying my face. My hand found his hair at his temple, and I toyed with it. I wanted to beg him to kiss me. I couldn't do it because I was thinking if I spoke he would tell me to stop touching him. I didn't remember moving in for a kiss until suddenly I couldn't see his eyes any longer because his mouth was inches from mine. I could feel his breath and smell the distinct mainly scent of his skin. I nudged my mouth closer, brushing my lips against his. All he had to do was take what I offered. I wouldn't force him. I gave him the opportunity. The seconds ticked by, emphasized by the sound of a wall clock ticking. I was afraid I had made a fool of myself.

I waited another second. Disappointment settled into my heart. I was shocked at how sad I felt. I inched back but Daryl refused to let me go. It was like I woke him up by pulling away. His mouth covered mine savagely. He knocked the wind right out of my lungs. Daryl's goatee was incredibly soft against my chin. I imagined feeling his facial hair on other areas of my body, lingering in the pleasure he offered. His tongue found the interior of my mouth and I mashed our teeth together trying to get him to penetrate deeper.

.

The feel of cold metal against the thin material of my t-shirt made me realize he had moved us, walking me backwards until my back was plastered against his refrigerator door. I felt the strength in his chest and I could feel the muscles rippling beneath my palms. I clawed at his stained shirt, pulling it up so I could touch the taunt muscles of his back. Daryl reacted to the skin on skin contact by sliding his open mouth down the side of my neck to my collarbone. Simultaneously he inched his hand from my hip to my breast working my nipple into a tight bud. A moan escaped my lips. Mosey whimpered. He didn't like to be ignored.

Breathlessly Daryl yelled at the dog. "Moe, go lay down!"

The faint sound of Mosey's nails on linoleum disappeared a moment later. I didn't want Daryl to lose his concentration. Most of all I didn't want Daryl to lose the erection that was plastered against me. I thought maybe Mosey's interruption would make Daryl snap back into reality. To insure that he kept his mind on us I trailed my nails down his spine and along the edge of his waist band. I stopped just shy of his belly button because Daryl sucked in his abdominal muscles. He shivered and his breathing hitched. Was he going to stop me from going too far? I got my answer a second later when I felt the cup of my bra being yanked to the side. The sensation of him sucking my breast started fireworks exploding in my body. I almost lost my balance when my knees gave out briefly. Daryl held me up, supporting me with his hands firmly wrapped around my rib cage. My shirt slid back down, covering his face. He didn't move it, didn't stop torturing me with his tongue.

.

I regained the ability to completely support my own body weight when the adrenaline from being aroused rushed through my veins. He took a break to catch his breath and I seized the moment. My hand cupped his swollen bulge, rubbing the length of his shaft. That did it for Daryl. Roughly he spun me around. In one swipe of his arm he cleared his kitchen table, sending the salt and pepper crashing to the floor. Moze barked from the other room.

.

His kisses and the gentle pressure of his upper body sent me onto my back. He moved with me, covering my body with his. I couldn't help the sounds that were coming from my throat. He had his hand in my jeans and was teasing my through my panties. I was desperately rocking my hips, needing him to go further. He read my mind, dipping his fingers under my panties. He expertly touched me in all the right places and I squirmed beneath him. I tried hard not to sink my teeth into his shoulder, failing at one point. He groaned in what sounded like pleasure mixed with pain. I wasn't sure if he liked that or wished I would stop. He answered me by shoving two of his fingers into me. Daryl's actions robbed me of my senses apart from the magic he was creating with his hand. I cried out. His eyes met mine once again and I struggled to keep my gaze on him. The rising tide within me built to a fevered pitch. The world beyond Daryl's eyes, dissolved away. He understood the expression on my face and read my body. Daryl was breathing hard, caught up in the moment as much as I was. He used his thumb to stimulate me while he twisted his finger and wiggled them relentlessly. I gasped. Breathlessly I repeated "oh fuck" until I could do nothing but quiver below him. For a second my eyes drifted shut but I forced them open so I could watch his eyes and he could see what he did to me.

.

At first I missed the reason why Daryl's hand stilled and he jumped off of me. The sudden movement snapped me out of the blissful post orgasm state my brain was in. I heard a loud motorcycle outside getting closer with the passing seconds. Daryl grabbed my wrists yanking me off of the table. Before I realized what was actually happening Daryl was pulling me through his living room and out of the front door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The Walking Dead, AMC or any of their affiliates. This is purely for entertainment purposes and is a fan created fiction. This story does not reflect the actual Walking Dead series and doesn't claim to be anything but a fan (me) expressing my appreciation for the characters and the wonder that is The Walking Dead. All OFC's (Original Fictional Characters) are a product of my own imagination. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.**

* * *

><p><strong>This Story is based on what would Daryl's life be like before the outbreak. It does not go along the lines of the show and is completely from my imagination. It is rated M because it contains detailed sexual encounters, strong language and may not be suitable for all readers. Please follow the guidelines set by FanFiction regarding the ratings. Thank you for your reviews they are greatly appreciated.<strong>

**Chapter 5**

Daryl and I were standing in the front flower bed of his yard, with our backs pressed against the white stucco. I stepped on a dried out low to the ground bush of some sort. It was almost impossible to tell what it was in the dark. It crunched under my feet. I apologized for his dead plant.

Daryl looked confused and mouthed the word "what" I pointed to the ground. He waved it off like he didn't care.

"That shits been dead for weeks."

I took comfort in the fact that you couldn't kill the already dead.

.

I could hear the bike but it must have been on the side of the house with the kitchen door. I didn't know exactly why we were hiding from the motorcycle. Whispering in his ear I asked Daryl what was going on.

"My brother's home."

The bike died and Daryl told me to be quiet without actually saying it. We listened and heard the screen door slam shut. Daryl inched me towards the edge of the house. He took a peek around the corner while he dug in his pocket. He slapped his keys into my palm, effectively digging the longest one into my flesh. I resisted the urge to yelp.

"Take my truck and drive to the end of the service road. Wait there."

.

I felt like we were breaking out of prison or something. I wondered why he didn't want me to meet his brother. Was he ashamed of me? I felt a sudden rush of anger. He wasn't ashamed a few minutes ago. A thought settled into my head. Maybe Daryl was a married man. I knew men who did hard labor jobs rarely wore a wedding ring. So he could easily have a wife who was into the rustic life. I began to imagine a woman that would live in a house like this and want a man like him. Of course I imagined a beautiful woman that was younger, prettier and with less fat on her ass.

.

My thoughts were cut off by the sound of a very angry voice coming from the house.

"What the fuck is this shit! Boy, if you're up there fucking you better hurry the fuck up! How many times did I tell you not to leave the goddamn garage open?" It sounded like Merle Dixon was directly behind me yelling in my ear. I jumped and Daryl shoved me to the truck.

"Go, get out of here now."

I climbed behind the wheel and with shaking hands started the truck. I was wondering if I would need to call 911. Not for myself but for Daryl. Where was my phone?

"Daryl!" He was running to the garage when he heard me. "My purse is in your house."

"I'll get it, just go. Now Joy!"

I caught a glimpse of Merle through the kitchen window. He was an evil looking man; the cookie cutter of every thought I had about men jailed for life. I definitely could see Merle on death row.

.

I pulled into the parking lot, parking next to a sign housing the name of the bank, time and temperature. I thought it was a good idea because it offered extra light from the street lamp and the sign. For some reason I didn't want to be sitting in the dark alone. Parking here seemed like a good idea at first. Then the minutes stretched on and Daryl didn't show up. I watched the sign thinking it had to be broken because time couldn't possibly be moving this damn slow! I had all kinds of visions of Daryl lying in a pool of blood.

.

Ten minutes passed and I worried maybe I should drive down the street. I didn't like that idea. What was I going to do? Shoot Merle with this toy bow and arrow thingy that was mounted to the rear window of the truck? So Daryl was a hunter. Perhaps that was his deer mounted on the wall above the couch. I hadn't met Merle in person, but I figured Merle was more of a gun guy. He looked like a gun guy just not a guy that was outdoorsy.

.

I played with the wire on the bow, strumming it like I would a guitar. It didn't seem real to me. I couldn't imagine this was a deadly weapon. Fourteen minutes later the driver's side door was yanked open and I screamed. Not just a little yelp, a full blown horror flick screamer, type scream. Daryl looked at me like I had two heads.

"Slide over."

I did as he suggested and caught my purse when he tossed it inside. He didn't tell me what happened but I had a feeling there was a fight. I watched as Daryl touched his thumb to the corner of his lip. The light was too limited for me to see if he had a bruise.

.

I gave him the directions to my loft. My neighborhood was mostly storage garages and factories, most of them boarded shut. I didn't mind living here. There was always parking and my landlord lived somewhere that apparently was too far to ever check up on the property. I had one downstairs neighbor. A seventy year old man, who loved to polka and wore multiple shades of plaid at one time. Every Friday night he would cake on the aftershave even though his face hadn't seen the sharp end of a razor in many years, and head to the American Legion for dance night. I didn't know what his real name was but everyone called him Dutch. We pulled up just as Dutch was heading to his Pinto. Daryl looked at the car in amazement.

"Christ, how the hell is that death trap still on the road?"

I didn't have an answer.

.

Daryl turned off the truck and we sat in the Ford silently going over what had happened this crazy night. I couldn't read his face or body language but I knew what my brain was screaming at me. I wanted him. I craved his touch so fiercely that my body was ready and humming with desire. I dismissed the wife theory or girlfriend for that matter. Daryl didn't seem like the cheating type. Besides I kissed him first, not the other way around. Normally men who cheated on their wives did the pursuing. I still couldn't figure out why he responded the way he did. And that idea led me to another question. Did Daryl want me because it was me, or would any woman do? On one hand that bothered me on the other I didn't.

.

I had a choice to make. I could take what I got out of my moment of weakness. Or I could bring him inside my tiny apartment and fuck him until the light of day. My body answered that question by flooding my panties with moisture. I shifted in my seat and immediately regretted it. The friction of my tight jeans reminding me of the explosive release I had on his table. I watched Daryl. He silently glanced at me a few times. What was he thinking? Was he picturing us together in the throes of passion? Did he still want me? I knew if he pulled the truck into a dark alley and wanted it right there on the front seat I would ride him like a beast.

.

I was working myself up into a frenzy of desire, thinking about going at it with him in the truck. The thoughts I had could make a porn star blush. I couldn't help it, the man was perfect. Right when I was ready to throw myself at him, Daryl spoke and broke my daydream.

"I'm sorry about that."

"So that was your brother?" I had to mask the hurt in my voice. I didn't want to hear an apology. I was convinced he was sorry about what happened with us.

Daryl rushed to explain. "Yeah that's the asshole. If you met him maybe you would think I'm just as bad."

I shook my head. I didn't think he was an asshole. He had been nothing but good to me.

"Yeah you would. Joy, I can be an asshole too. I'm pigheaded and mean. You don't need me in your life."

"I don't believe that at all. Not after everything you did."

I tucked my legs under me and scooted over towards him. As soon as I was close enough I straddled his lap, wedging my body between him and the steering wheel. I accidently hit the horn. I looked around nervously to make sure no one was outside. Dutch was still in his parking spot with the car idling. He stuck his hand out of the widow and gave the one finger salute. I laughed, knowing how absurd this was. Daryl didn't respond to the flip off or my laughter. He covered my breast with his palm, giving it a squeeze. In return I cradled his jaw while I tongue kissed him. I couldn't take anymore, I breathlessly whispered close to his ear. "Come inside, stay with me."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The Walking Dead, AMC or any of their affiliates. This is purely for entertainment purposes and is a fan created fiction. This story does not reflect the actual Walking Dead series and doesn't claim to be anything but a fan (me) expressing my appreciation for the characters and the wonder that is The Walking Dead. All OFC's (Original Fictional Characters) are a product of my own imagination. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.**

* * *

><p><strong>This Story is based on what would Daryl's life be like before the outbreak. It does not go along the lines of the show and is completely from my imagination. It is rated M because it contains detailed sexual encounters, strong language and may not be suitable for all readers. Please follow the guidelines set by FanFiction regarding the ratings. Thank you for your reviews they are greatly appreciated.<strong>

**Chapter 6**

I didn't bother turning on the lights, figuring he wasn't there to see my rat trap of an apartment. Besides there wasn't any need to set the mood. The mood had been set with a thorough fingering on a linoleum table. I two fisted his shirt, closing the door with my backside and the weight of our bodies. Daryl slammed his hips against mine, banging my head against the door a couple of times. I wondered what he would think if I tore his shirt open, sending his buttons flying through my living room. I decided that stuff only worked in the movies. He watched me open each one while I pondered a theme song, had this been a movie. Oddly enough the only soundtrack I could think of was the theme from the twilight zone.

.

Daryl's skin had an enticing scent that I couldn't get enough of. I couldn't decide if it was the musk of arousal or the thin layer of perspiration caused by the Atlanta heat. Either way I buried my face in the curve of his neck. I thought I would only kiss him there but the desire to taste him ruled my actions. He didn't seem to mind the feel of my tongue on his skin. In fact he encouraged me by tilting his head back and cradling the back of my head with his palm. It was when I sucked on his collarbone that his body tightened and he yanked my shirt over my head. I wanted to resume my oral fixation on his body but Daryl had plans of his own. The clasp of my bra gave way and along with it the top layer of skin on my shoulder from his finger nails. It should have hurt the way he clawed at my bra strap but instead it turned me on. He could get rough if he wanted to and I wouldn't stop him. He lowered his mouth to my breast and instead of sucking he nibbled on my nipple. I never had a man do that with his teeth before. I liked it. I wanted more.

.

He didn't move us from my front door, but I could tell he was getting impatient. I figured Daryl didn't know where to go and was waiting for my lead. Tangling my fingers in his hair I yanked his head back to stop him for a minute. I barely could breathe the words but somehow managed to whisper. "Let's go to bed."

He stepped back allowing me space to take him to my room. I slid my hand into his and pulled him towards my bedroom. It should have been a simple walk since my place consisted of one room that doubled as a kitchen and living space, the loft that I used as my office/storage room, a bathroom, and a small room straight down the hall. I chose to use the smaller bedroom after one night of almost killing myself in a sleep filled haze. I had missed the last rung of the ladder and ended up on my face. I never told anyone that going to the toilet almost killed me, even when I got the abused wife stare from coworkers.

Like I said the trek to the bedroom should have been easy but it wasn't. I bashed my shin on the coffee table. After Daryl heard the extent of my truck driver's mouth he lifted me off my feet.

"Where?"

I pointed as he held me matrimony style. He walked smoothly to my bedroom like he had been there his whole life. I figured he had great nocturnal vision or he was just lucky. Finally deciding that he was about to get very lucky indeed.

.

He put me down on my bed and I reached for the bedside table lamp. Daryl had been going in for a kiss at the same time and we ended up smacking our heads together. I landed flat on my back with him on top of me. It was the position I was aiming for, but not exactly the results I sought. Daryl rolled off of me grunting and groaning, also the desired goal, but wrong reason. I squinted against the onslaught of light, amazed at how bright a 40 watt bulb could be.

"Jesus chri…" He stopped mid rant glancing at the statue of Jesus my grandmother had insisted I keep in my bedroom. Perhaps maybe she thought it would help keep my virtue. Sorry Grams but that's been gone awhile. My smile faded as quickly as it came because Daryl wasn't finished with his complaint.

"Joy why must you try to control everything? Just lie there and don't move!"

I pondered his request that I shouldn't move. What was the fun in that? I assumed eventually he would want some movement.

.

Daryl got up off of the bed still holding his forehead. I could see the corner of his lip was swollen. It confirmed my theory that him and Merle had resorted to violence to work out their issues. I figured Merle would take credit for the bump on Daryl's head too.

I watched as Daryl lifted the statue up and carried it to the door.

"JC you and I have a problem. I plan on doing un-holy things to your girl there, and you can't watch." He put the idol out into the hall and closed my bedroom door.

I tried to imagine what kind of things he planned on doing. The images gave me the chills. I thought, 'don't worry I plan on doing some things too.'

I rubbed the sorest spot on my head hoping it didn't leave a mark. Explaining this bruise to my co-workers wasn't something I wanted to do. When Daryl turned back to the bed he stole my breath. His cut body and the soft speckling of hair on his chest amazed me. But what really did me in was his open pants hanging low on his hips. I wanted to kiss my way through that trail of hair that disappeared below his belt.

He slowly took off his clothing leaving me dumbfounded by the sight of his body.

.

"Why didn't you turn on the light out there then you wouldn't have gotten hurt."

Since he was bold enough to take his pants off and drop the greasy mess onto my oatmeal colored carpet I decided anything I did or said wouldn't bother him. I dropped my jeans and panties in one shot, throwing them in the general direction of my laundry basket.

"I didn't need to see you out there. But I need to see you now."

As I got onto my knees I reached for him. I let my eyes trail the length of his body stopping on his manhood. The sheer size of his erection had me giddy with anticipation and apprehensive all at once. He was going to tear me up for sure. I didn't care. I would take the pain because I knew he was more than capable of creating intense pleasure.

He must have liked the idea of keeping the light on because he took a long look at my body. It didn't take long for him to climb onto the bed with me. The second he knelt there he pulled me to him. I thought we fit together perfectly against my front door but that was nothing compared to this. He kissed me long and hard before body slamming me onto the bed. I gasped over his forcefulness but it turned me on something fierce. The words were out of my mouth before I realized I had thought them.

"Oh God yes!" Daryl answered me with a nonverbal hum.

.

Foreplay wasn't needed; I was more than ready when Daryl moved between my open thighs. He took his time exploring my body. With his hands and his mouth, taking me close to the edge, each time backing off right before the big moment. I was beginning to think we would never get to it, all the stalling and playing around was grating on my nerves. If he didn't jump me soon I was going to tackle him and have my way.

Daryl locked eyes with me and for the first time I realized all the touching was his way of making sure I was going to accommodate him. Giving him encouragement I rocked my hips upward sliding his tip into my folds. Daryl grabbed the top lip of my mattress and used it as a make shift horizontal pull up bar. The movement successfully sinking him deep within me. I made a sound similar to Anthony Hopkins in the Silence of the lambs, when he tells Jodi Foster how he liked his liver. The hitch in Daryl's breathing told me the thrust was just as intense for him.

.

He waited for the tension to wean from my body, giving me a chance to recover. It didn't happen, I needed him more than I could express. I moved first, rocking my hips against him. He matched the movement upping the tempo until we both could barely breathe. I felt him from head to toe, every nerve ending screaming for release. I was sure he could read my thoughts and he answered them by swiveling his hips. The deliberate movements had me clinging to my sheets and crying out until exhausted my body went limp. Daryl collapsed onto me and with a powerful explosion I felt him pulsing inside of me.

I'm not sure how long we stayed like that. I did know it was longer than it took for my breathing to return to normal and for my heart rate to slow. I did know that in spite of all that we did and no matter how satisfied I was with the results I still wanted him. I proved it by nudging him onto his back and climbing on top of him. I smiled because it was obvious he wanted me too.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The Walking Dead, AMC or any of their affiliates. This is purely for entertainment purposes and is a fan created fiction. This story does not reflect the actual Walking Dead series and doesn't claim to be anything but a fan (me) expressing my appreciation for the characters and the wonder that is The Walking Dead. All OFC's (Original Fictional Characters) are a product of my own imagination. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.**

* * *

><p><strong>This Story is based on what would Daryl's life be like before the outbreak. It does not go along the lines of the show and is completely from my imagination. It is rated M because it contains detailed sexual encounters, strong language and may not be suitable for all readers. Please follow the guidelines set by FanFiction regarding the ratings. Thank you for your reviews they are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!<strong>

**Life with Joy**

**Chapter 7**

I rolled over stretching my body to its full length. Everything hurt from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. It was a good kind of hurt though because of the blissful reasons behind the ache. This was the second time I was waking up this morning. The first time was very rude and before dawn. I had rolled over, forgetting that I wasn't alone in the bed and landed in a heap on the floor tangled helplessly in the sheet. I was used to sharing a bed but not used to Daryl's choice of sides. Kevin always chose to sleep on my right away from the door, Daryl had taken the opposite. Having his strong body to snuggle behind added to my list of why I felt very secure around him.

.

Daryl laughed at me, refusing at first to help me out of the mess I was in. After some swearing and struggling he finally helped me to my feet, spinning me until the sheet was loose enough to pool around my ankles. I remembered the look on his face when the sheet gave way, his eyes following it as it slid down my body. I encouraged his train of thought with a lingering kiss and a hand on his already _growing _desire.

"Joy, I need to get to work. Merle's gonna be pissed. And I need a fucking shower."

"We both do. And the only thing Merle will be pissed at is the fact that he isn't getting any."

That got him to laugh and lower me to my bed. He plowed into me. Now that my body was accustom to his girth I welcomed the satisfaction of having him fill me completely. I loved the way he completed the cycle pulling all the way out before plunging in again. I knew eventually he would shorten his movements when desperation ruled his actions. I figured our conversation was over.

"Don't you worry Merle gets what he wants. Too much if you ask me."

He climbed off of me, grabbing my wrists while lifting me off of the bed much like he had done in his kitchen yesterday. We didn't have anything to run from this time so I whined like a spoiled child.

"No don't stop."

Daryl was kissing my neck, and his hands seemed to be everywhere on my body. I felt his fingertips glide over my clit while he whispered in my ear.

"Ever fuck in the shower?" He walked me backwards to the bathroom.

.

The answer was no and once he saw my tiny walk-in he understood why. We took turns throwing water at each other, escalating our state of arousal with soapy hands, and eager mouths. I curled my fingers around his shaft, stroking him from base to tip. It surprised me how much the feel of his slick member turned me on. Daryl had his back to the showerhead making rivers of water run over his shoulder and down his chest. I followed the water's path with my tongue, taking a minor detour to circle his nipple and navel. When I was low enough Daryl cupped the back of my head. I gave him a sly smile, knowing the power I had over him at this moment. I never wanted to please a man like this more than I wanted to with Daryl. The taught skin of his hood brushing against my lips and feeling the rippling vein that ran the length of his shaft on my tongue , ignited a fire within me to take him all the way.

.

No matter how badly I wanted to finish this, Daryl had other plans. Abruptly he yanked me to my feet, shoved me under the spray briefly before flinging me over his shoulder. He carried me, dripping water all over my tiled floor and carpeting until he got to my bed where he tossed me unceremoniously. I didn't mind really because I could finish the job here just as easily as there and perhaps save my knees some irritation from the bathmat. I didn't get a chance because Daryl put both hands on the inside of my thighs pushing my legs open until he could plant his face in my crotch. I'm not complaining at all because he has an amazing mouth.

.

As I lie in bed remembering, I felt the heat rising up my neck and into my cheeks. My hand traveled south reminding me further of just how amazingly satisfied I was with Daryl. Nothing compared to his touch, he had ruined me for anything but him.

"Bastard, how the fuck am I going to live without you?" I secretly wished I wouldn't have to, ever.

.

I had the day off from waiting tables and decided to call in sick with job number two at the Wine and Spirits Shoppe. After I hung up with my boss, I headed back into the shower. I still had shampoo caked in my hair from the hasty way we left the bathroom this morning. I never lied about being sick because I rarely called off of work. I needed the money too badly. I also had a strong work ethic that extended to every job I had, not just my career. I was feeling a little guilty as I changed into a fresh pair of pajamas. Even if I wanted to rethink my decision about work I didn't have a car to get there. I decided it was best not to dwell on the "no car" subject right now.

.

Something my manager said had me curious enough to search out a news channel on TV. I landed on a popular local station and listened to the latter half of a debate on outbreak protocol. A doctor was arguing with a military looking fellow about declaring a state of emergency. Across the bottom of the screen was a list of hospital closings. I listened for a few more minutes trying to figure out why an illness with a fever would be a military issue. My manager's words echoed in my ears.

"Joy you don't have a fever do you? The fever changes people."

It wasn't the words she said that got my attention it was the fear behind them.

.

.

Daryl stayed away that night. I had expected it because he told me before he left that he was going to look into getting me a car. I didn't want to admit that my body needed the break. Not only from him but from my work schedule. I was thoroughly exhausted and slept most of the day and night. My home phone woke me the next morning. It was a co-worker who tearfully told me I no longer had a job at the café. I wasn't fired but the owner had died suddenly and the family chose to close the place. I drank coffee and wondered what the hell was going on with the world. I didn't know what killed my boss but I worried that it was the fever.

My phone rang again. I was hoping it was Daryl but instead Paula, the manager at the coffee shop, job number three, asked if I would pick up extra time due to an illness with a coworker. I agreed but a voice in my head questioned if I was in danger of becoming sick.

.

.

By midafternoon I hadn't heard from Daryl so of course I thought I would never hear from him again. I shed a few tears in the shower until I was able to draw from a well of anger over him. I wasn't mad at him though. Just myself for allowing a man to use me once again. I had to shove all of this drama aside and find a ride to work now. To add insult to injury I turned on my cell phone to be confronted with cancelation. "Thanks Kevin, screwing me one last time!"

I decided to grovel my way to work with the only person I knew who had a car, my downstairs neighbor Dutch. I was surprised when the door pushed open with my knock. I could hear coughing coming from the back of the apartment.

"Dutch?"

"Back here, but don't come in." He coughed and wheezed. "I've picked up a cold."

I knew that didn't sound like a cold it sounded like death.

"I'm sorry to bother you. I just came to ask for a ride to work. Is there anything I can get for you?" It was silent back there and I wondered if he had died. Scared I covered my mouth with my shirt. Was this contagious? Was it that fever I've heard about? His voice startled me.

"Take my car I don't need it."

Dutch was sounding weaker by the minute. "Maybe I should get you to the hospital?"

"No, just go on, take the car. Check on me later. I want to sleep."

He coughed so often during that last sentence I wasn't sure if he could finish it. Desperation made me grab his keys from the hook next to the door. I promised to come back after my shift.

.

I made a trip back up to my apartment in time to hear Daryl's voice on my answering machine.

"Call me back if you want to. Fuck maybe you changed your cell number cause you don't want to see me again. Whatever fuck it!"

I was late already. I didn't want to lose my job at the coffee shop too so I decided I would call Daryl and explain when I got there. So that is why I hadn't heard from him, he was calling my cell number. For the first time today I had a huge grin on my face and the mysterious illness didn't seem so scary. I saw a future with Daryl and I liked that idea very much. Before running out the door I grabbed my Clorox wipes from the bathroom just in case. I figured I should wipe down Dutch's car before I drove it. This was only the flu. If he was contagious the bleach should take care of any lingering germs.

.

The Pinto refused to stay running long enough for me to get it into gear. I remembered Dutch sitting in the car for a little while before going anywhere. I though he was adjusting his toupee all this time, but really he was letting the car warm up. I gave that a shot and was successful in pulling out of the parking spot.

The drive to the shop was strange. The residential area of my part of town was deserted. I could understand people staying inside during the afternoon heat but usually I would see children outside and couple of cars on the road. I turned down the street that took me to the highway. I saw a woman walking along the side of the road. Good it was only my overactive imagination. People were just doing other things. As I got closer something didn't seem right about the woman. She was walking slowly almost staggering and at one point she weaved into the road. I gave her a wide birth as I passed by. When I looked in the rearview mirror I saw the front of her shirt was covered in blood. I reached for my cellphone only to remember I didn't have service and hadn't brought it with me.

.

I turned my car around, I could help the woman, maybe get one of the neighbors to call the police. I pulled up along side of her, and she walked right past my car like she wasn't seeing me there. Great I thought, she is delirious, maybe she is sick like the others. I put the pinto in reverse and it stalled. I rolled the window down with the crank handle. How the hell old was this car?

"Hey Ma'am?" I put my head out of the window and yelled to her again. "Lady, do you need help? Maybe you should go knock on one of the doors there. I don't have a phone."

She stopped, stood very still for a few moments. I don't know why that bothered me but it did. Perhaps she wasn't hurt, perhaps she was crazy and dangerous. I watched as she turned only her head to look back at me. I couldn't believe what I saw when I looked at her face.

"Come on start you piece of shit!" Cranking the engine and jamming my foot on the accelerator, I prayed this was the right way to get the car roaring to life once again.

I nervously glanced in my rear view mirror. The woman was moving faster than she had before, almost runnign to the car. I just finished rolling up the window when she threw her body against the door. I screamed when she pounded on the glass. I didn't understand what was happening, she hissed and moaned like an animal. The car sparked to life and I jammed my foot on the gas hoping it wouldn't stall again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**Daryl post apocalypse:**

Daryl thrashed around the floor of the RV, moaning. Carol sat up, startled awake by the sound. She pushed the covers back slowly getting off of the bed. He usually was a light sleeper, they all were. She was in the midst of sorrow over the loss of Sophia. Daryl had done everything he possibly could to find the child, yet he didn't think it was enough. During the day he looked for the little girl, at night he watched over the mother. It wasn't easy on him, and Carol knew he felt responsible for her loss.

Quietly she tiptoed over to him. "Daryl? Wake up. Daryl come on, you're dreaming."

He didn't answer her so she crept closer. Sweat was pouring off of him as he struggled against an unknown threat. He sounded like one of them…The Walkers. At first she didn't know if she should get closer. Had Daryl been infected when he was lost in the woods? The question hung heavily, unspoken in the small space. He would have turned by now. Hershel assured her that Daryl was fine.

Daryl grunted almost like a growl, loud enough to make her jump. She pressed her hand over her mouth to cover the scream that almost slipped out. Moments later she breathed a sigh of relief when he started to mumble, mostly curse words. Walkers don't talk. Her heavy sigh filled the RV.

Knowing how scared Sophia would be when she had a bad dream, Carol spoke softly, "Come on honey wake up." Her heart ached for Sophia and how she would cling to her when this happened. The only difference was Carol kept from touching Daryl. With Sophia she could scoop the girl up and hug her until she came back to reality. But Daryl... Daryl was a grown man; he would be unpredictable at best if startled.

.

Dale heard the noises coming from below and at first thought something personal was going on down there. Things he didn't want to know about. A shiver went down his spine thinking about Carol giving herself to a man like Daryl Dixon. And in his bed yet. The thought made Dale sick to his stomach.

Glenn was keeping watch with him tonight and when he saw Dale move closer to the hatch he whispered, "What's going on?"

Dale held up his hand cautioning Glenn to stay back and to keep quiet. Dale heard Carol call out to Daryl and he couldn't hide his relief over the fact that they weren't having sex. "Oh thank God they're not!"

Glenn picked up on Dale's body language, knowing what the man was thinking. "No way! No possible way!" He shook his head wildly. Carol wouldn't, shouldn't… couldn't. "It just was too weird to think about."

This time Dale actually told him to be quiet. He leaned over the open hatch calling out to Carol. "Is everything alright?"

Carol move into view. "I don't know, Daryl's dreaming. He doesn't look well."

A chill that went down Dale's spine again. It was different this time. This time it was from raw fear.

.

Carol could hear Dale and Glenn climbing off the roof of the RV. She didn't want anyone to do anything hasty to Daryl so she reached for him. Right before she touched him he screamed, primal and raw. It was pain coming from sheer heartbreak.

"No! Oh no… my God…Joy!"

Carol touched him startling Daryl awake. He sat up, a knife in hand ready to kill.

Carol yelped just as Dale screamed from the doorway. "Daryl what are you doing?"

Daryl fell back against the sleeping bag he was lying on. Covering his eyes with his arm, he dropped the knife next to his head. Carol plopped down beside him landing hard on her backside, holding a hand over her heart. She tried to control her racing heartbeat by laughing nervously.

Daryl sat up again suddenly. "Jesus Christ what the hell were y'all doin?"

Carol put her hand on his shoulder. "You were dreaming." She pushed his hair off of his forehead, checking his temperature without actually letting him know she was doing it. He was cool to the touch, a little clammy, but not feverish.

Daryl batted her hand away. "What the fuck! I've told you I'm fine! And you, you want to shoot me too?" Daryl pointed at Dale and then glared at Glenn. "How about you short round, wanna to take a shot?" He jumped to his feet pushing past the men. "I'm sleeping the fuck outside!"

Glenn stepped aside pointing the rifle at the floor. "Sorry Daryl."

.

Daryl slammed his bedding onto the ground while mumbling under his breath. He was watch backup tonight, which meant he would sleep inside the RV and be the first called if there was trouble. They could call him just as easily out here as in there. He could go sleep in Glenn and T-dog's tent but the truth was he didn't really want to be around people. If he went to the tent T-Dog would wonder why. If he went back inside Carol would questioned him about his dream. And Dale would be worried that he would repeat the mistake he made by pulling the knife. He didn't want this shit, didn't want people caring about him. Most of all he didn't want them to see his pain because of Joy. He didn't want anyone to know she existed. He rolled onto his side forgetting about his healing injury. He blamed his streaming tears on the excruciating pain from the wound, not the excruciating pain in his heart. "Fuck" He repeated the word a few times, trying to ward off the memories. They came anyway haunting him.

.

**The Dixon's, beginning of the end:**

At their house Daryl grabbed everything he possibly could find that would help them out on the road. He was filling the truck while Merle was upstairs in his bedroom, most likely grabbing his stash. The sirens were going off every fifteen minutes. Emergency broadcast had taken over the TV. He could hear the military helicopters flying overhead. As he grabbed the tents, flashlights, canteens and lanterns, he kept thinking about Joy. He had to get her and make sure she was safe. This was war. This was survival. Daryl ran to the garage to grab the five gallon gas can from the inside of the first stall. On his way back to the truck Merle stood in his way.

"What the fuck you doin' dickhead?"

"I'm going back for Joy!"

Merle grabbed two fists full of Daryl's shirt. "The fuck you are!"

Daryl gave him a shove. "I'm getting my girlfriend!"

Merle eyed his younger brother with more contempt than anyone should ever feel for their own family. Daryl hadn't learned to stuff his feeling away like Merle had. Daryl was a lot like their mother she loved their father even after every punch, kick and slap she received from the worthless bastard. "I knew the first chance you'd get you'd choose pussy over your own kin!" Merle lifted his hand to take a swing at his younger brother.

Daryl ducked in time. Normally he would take the blow and land a few of his own. Today though, he had one thing to do, find Joy and make sure she was safe.

"I said, you ain't goin'!" Merle all but spit the words at him.

Daryl kept running. He had to get behind the wheel before Merle realized that he had swiped the keys out of his pocket.

Merle was speechless that Daryl would defy him. He didn't know what to say until Daryl fishtailed the truck as he passed him. He waved his fist at him, "I'm going to kill you, you son of a bitch!"

.

It seemed to take forever to get to her apartment. Daryl swerved in and out of traffic driving like a maniac. He had to get to Joy, get her out before it was too late. She may not have wanted to see him again before hell broke loose, but she needed him now. He needed her too. Merle would just have to understand.

When he finally got to her place he pulled over at the curb facing the truck the wrong way. He took the steps two at a time, panic rising in his chest. His knocks on her door went unanswered.

"Fuck!" He paced in the small space that was the landing to the top of the steps. "Joy if you're in there hiding from me, I'm sorry about this!" His heel made contact with the lock housing. The door splintered. It took three more kicks to make it fly open. The apartment seemed untouched. He saw the light on her answering machine blinking. He pressed the button and heard his own voice. He checked every room making sure Joy wasn't hurt or worse. She wasn't here. Did she go to work? Daryl smacked himself in the head trying to remember where she told him she worked. He dumped the contents of her utility drawer onto the kitchen table searching for anything, a work number, an address. The only thing he found useful was a pocket knife. He took it and went on searching.

"Come on Joy you have to have something written down!" He searched her coffee table and night stand, nothing. Daryl stood by the bed for a second just staring at it. "Where are you?" He saw something sticking out of the messy covers. He reached for it and was shocked to find her cell phone. He found out a moment later why she didn't take her phone when he tried to press redial. "Fuck!"

He hit the contact list hopeful for the first time when her work numbers were listed. He used his phone to call the Wine and Spirit Shoppe only to get a strange rapid busy signal. Pissed off at his cellphone he tried her landline. Someone answered at the coffee shop.

"She didn't get here yet. But if you talk to her tell her to stay…"

The line went dead. When Daryl tried the number again the call wouldn't connect.

He didn't know how she would have gotten to work because he had her car. Silently he hoped to feel some kind of connection with her or to be shown a sign. When nothing happened he decided his best bet would be to drive the route to the coffee shop and see if there was any sign of her.

.

Daryl heard a noise out in the hallway and breathed a sigh of relief. She was home! He rushed out there and ran into Dutch. He was making his way up the steps growling like a rabid animal. His mouth was covered in fresh blood that dripped onto his stained t-shirt. Daryl charged the man knocking him down the stairs. Dutch landed in a heap of broken bones yet he didn't stop trying to get at Daryl.

"You fuck! You kill her?" Daryl didn't know what snapped in his head all he knew was he had the pocket knife in his hand. He stabbed Dutch in the face until the man, or what was left of him stopped moving.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Hershel's Farm:**

Lori watched Carol steal another glance at Daryl. How many times in this last hour had she caught the woman looking at him, ten, fifteen times? Probably more. She was beginning to think that Carol might be falling for Daryl. It made sense in some ways. Andrea took a seat next to Lori, handing her a metal cup, the kind used years ago and now reserved mainly for camping. Lori looked at the clear brown liquid in the silver cup. "What's this?"

Andrea swatted a fly away from her drink. She hated bugs and now that the world was 90 percent rotted flesh the flies were out of control. Andrea was glad they had the chance to stay on the farm. At least here they weren't being forced into true survival mode, living off of bugs and whatever else they could scrounge for. Living here actually made life seem a little normal. "It's mint tea. Maggie made it. What's he doing?" Andrea pointed her cup at Daryl.

Maggie looked at Daryl when Andrea mentioned him; she remained quiet as she watched the stern looking Dixon. She was still trying to figure out the members of this group and Daryl seemed the hardest nut to crack. She knew men like him in the past, and she knew it was best to leave them alone. She nodded at Lori when the woman thanked her for her trouble. "Was no bother, I picked the leaves and boiled it, that's all. Can't use any sugar for things like this and the honey's just about gone. So it's not great." A few feet away Carol was hanging clothing. Maggie walked over to her and handed her a cup of tea. Carol smiled sweetly. In spite of her loss Carol was still able to smile even if it was only to make their host feel comfortable with their presence on the farm. Maggie tried to remember the last time she smiled, nothing came to mind.

.

Lori remained silent waiting for Maggie to be beyond earshot before bringing up her fears about Carol and Daryl. "Something happened last night. I can't get Carol to say anything. Glenn told Rick that Daryl woke up screaming and pulled a knife on Carol."

Andrea sat up straighter. "Do you think he's losing his mind? The way he came back to camp that day I… He really did look like he had changed."

The ever present Dale moved into the conversation making Andrea shoot him a "if looks could kill" facial expression. "You thought that enough to shot him. But if you ask me, it's just Daryl being Daryl."

The woman laughed neither of them paying any attention to Carol and the fact that she had joined their little gossip circle.

"That's not fair! You should be ashamed of yourself!" Her words were low and biting. "All that Daryl has done… does for this group!" Carol shoved her cup roughly back into Maggie's hands, spilling most of it down the front of their hosts shirt. "I'm sorry Maggie. I'm not in the mood for tea."

.

Daryl walked around camp kicking stones. He was aware the others were wondering what was wrong with him. He couldn't tell them, half of them if not all, wouldn't believe it anyway. To them he was just a stupid racist redneck. And the truth was he didn't want to talk about her. He just wanted to be left alone. Hell, Merle could come walking into the camp right now and Daryl would tell him to leave him the fuck alone. Bad enough the images came at night while he slept, but why were they still haunting him in the day? He had seen worse. Had been involved and done worse since then. So why were the memories back to taunt him now?

**Joy's Apartment:**

Daryl pushed himself away from the lifeless man lying in the foyer of Joy's apartment. The pool of blood under Dutch was growing, threatening to soak Daryl's pant legs. Never had he killed anyone before and at the moment he wasn't sure if this was really murder, not since the man was already dead.

"This can't be happening!" His voice was slightly below screaming as panic took over his emotions. "I must be crazy. It's a dream... it has to be a dream!" He was breathing so hard that he thought he would hyperventilate and pass out. The only thing that calmed him for a minute was to think about her. "No, Joy's real. She has to be real." He repeated that to himself until he felt his heart rate slow and he could finish the sentence without gulping in air between words.

Daryl kept moving back until he felt a wall behind him. He didn't want any more of the man's blood on him, fearful that he would get what Dutch had. Terrified he wiped his face on his shirt, trying like hell to make sure there wasn't blood on his skin. A memory nagged at him. Dutch had blood on his mouth. He was on his feet in an instant. "No, please no not Joy!"

He had to know. Had to see if Joy was in Dutch's apartment. Daryl jumped over the pool of blood, crashing into Dutch's door. The door was open and it swung inward sending him sprawling onto the carpet landing hard on his shoulder. He ignored the pain, springing to his feet. "Joy!"

The apartment smelled like sweat and death. Daryl tried not to gag. He searched the entire place finding a half-eaten cat in the kitchen. He turned away from it disgusted by the sight of it. Daryl was relieved that Joy wasn't here. That relief didn't last long when he heard the sound of motorcycle idling outside.

.

Daryl stood toe to toe with Merle. He loved his brother, but sometimes Merle really pushed his buttons. He always treated him like he was some stupid kid. He wasn't going to back down though. "We have to go back to the house!"

"We can't go back; the place is crawlin with them fuckers! I barely got away. Don't be a dumbass this is war brother! Live or die, you choose."

"What about my dog?"

Merle slapped Daryl upside the head. "Hell has come to earth and you're worried about your fuckin mutt? He's zombie bait brother. The dog ain't no more"

Daryl wanted to grieve for his dog. He loved Moz. Mosey was the only friend he ever had. He scowled at Merle wanting nothing more than to punch the son of a bitch in the face. "You're a real dick, you know that?"

"Damn proud! You going to cry little brother? Boo-hoo let me get ya a hankie. Here it is." Merle slapped Daryl once again. "Where's you balls? I didn't raise no sissy. Get your ass in that truck we gots to get movin."

Daryl pointed at Merle. If he touched him once more the fists would fly. "And where the hell do you think we're going? You didn't raise me, no one did. Fuck you!"

Merle laughed at him. "Yeah you're right I didn't raise ya, but I made you be a man not some little bitch. Quit your belly aching! We'll head north brother. We'll hole up in that cabin for a while, till this shit comes to a head."

Daryl wanted to argue with Merle, tell him it was impossible to go there since they didn't own it any longer. Daryl was forced to sell the family's hunting cabin to bail Merle out of Jail. He couldn't help but laugh, maybe Merle would have been safer locked up. He wasn't giving in though. He would never stop looking for Joy. "I don't give a fuck what we do. That is… after I dive into the city."

Furious Merle screamed at him, "You ain't doin it!"

Merle grabbed Daryl but he swung out of his grasp. "Try to stop me."


	10. Chapter 10

**Joy**

"Please don't die, please oh please don't die!" Tears rolled down my face as the Pinto sputtered for a second. The woman tried to smash the window with her fists. I thanked God when the car lurched forward and kept going. I turned a corner and almost ran into a group of people huddled around something lying on the ground. At the sound of the car they looked up. I could see they were like the woman. But what was lying on the ground made me step on the gas and plow through them. Bodies flew up over the hood of Dutch's car. I glanced in the mirror and saw the half eaten body lying on the street. People tried to flag me down as I drove. I couldn't trust anyone. Tears rolled down my face as I drove past a woman holding her blood soaked lifeless child. I had to keep going, had to keep driving because there was only one place I wanted to go and that was Daryl's house. I was positive he would know what to do.

I parked on the cement pad next to the kitchen door. I didn't bother with knocking or noticing the fact that the truck was gone. I was barely through the door when I screamed for him. "Daryl!" In a panic I ran from room to room looking for him. He wasn't here and reality began to settle in. The place looked ransacked as if they had left in a hurry. Contents of drawers were spilled out on to the floor, closets and cabinets were left open. I went into the living room and noticed the gun cabinet had been cleaned out. The only thing that remained was a bow that looked like it had belonged to a child. For beginners, I thought. Perhaps Daryl's father had bought it for him to use on their first trip to the woods.

"Sorry babe I'm going to need to steal this from ya." I hoped to God that I could use it with some kind of accuracy if I needed to. I was trying to line the notch up into the bowstrings when I heard a noise in the kitchen. "No…no…no no! Please don't be one of those things." I couldn't bring myself to say people because people didn't eat each other.

The noise was something I recognized and it took me a minute to process. That is when I saw him. "Mosey! Oh thank God!" At the sound of his name the dog wagged his tail and lugged his droopy body a few feet, sitting down to rest and wait for me to come to him. I did gratefully. As soon as I got there I tossed myself onto my knees and scooped him up. I never hugged a dog so tightly before. "Why did he leave you? Damn it, Daryl if you left this dog to die I will hate you forever!"

I took a couple of glances out of Daryl's windows to make sure that it was still clear on the street. I was happy that Daryl didn't have neighbors; for the most part his property was secluded.

I needed to organize what I was taking from his house and then decide how I would let him know where I was. Thoughts of "what would you take if you were stranded on a deserted island?" rushed through my head and top of that list was toilet paper. Why I was worried about it didn't make sense because after all I was only going to a shelter in Atlanta and they certainly would have toilet tissue. Or they would run out. I cleaned Daryl's bathroom out only leaving a partial roll on the holder. I figured it would be mean to leave him without anything in case he returned. And I stole his toothpaste and mouthwash. Part of my deserted island plan was to have the creature comforts of home. So what, I could make a straw hut like Gilligan's island and wear a coconut bra. That thought sent me to his bedroom. I knew the room was his by the greasy garage clothing lying crumpled in a wash basket. I took a second to hug his pillow trying to burn the memory of his scent into my brain. I longed for his arms to be wrapped around me. "Please come home now Daryl, please!"

I put his pillow down and searched his dresser, grabbing a couple changes of clothes by the way of cotton t-shirts, boxers and two pairs of jeans. They were grease stained, torn at the knees and around three sizes too big, but would have to do for now. I wondered why I didn't think of this stuff at home. But at home I had thought I was just going to work. I hadn't realized the world had ended.

.

Back on the first floor Mosey was taking a nap. He obviously thought I belonged here or he was one hell of a lousy watch dog. I wrote a clear message straight across Daryl's refrigerator with the black permanent marker I found on the floor. Figuring there was always two places in a home that a man looked, the fridge and the toilet. One more glance out the window put my mind at ease that I was still safe. While doing that, I saw a near empty two litter bottle of clear soda sitting on the counter. I knew I should take water; it was part of my "island" list. Once I twisted the cap I realized that wasn't soda. I could have gotten drunk off the fumes. Tempted to take a sip I sniffed the booze until I realized this more than likely belonged to Merle Dixon. I happily poured it down the sink, while thinking all kinds of nasty thoughts about Merle. The fucker had hit my baby. After washing the bottle out a few times it still smelled like alcohol. I just hoped it was clean enough when I filled it with tap water, if not Mosey and I would be loaded on one sip. My pile was getting pretty big so I started to load the car.

When I finally was ready to go I noticed a leash hanging from a nail next to a broom closet. The door was open part way and I thought I saw something I needed. A twenty pound bag of dog food was sitting on the floor. I grabbed it and a box of milk bones. Behind the bag was a rifle, leaning in the corner next to a straw broom. I grabbed the gun even though I had never fired one before. "Bullets! I need them? Where do you think I would find those?" Mosey didn't have an answer so I searched the shelves. All the way on the top was a box of long ammunition I could only assume was for this gun. I was proud of my success. I had things to protect myself and now I could safely head into Atlanta to the shelter I heard about.

.

The backseat was full of things I looted from Daryl's house including an entire stack of rod and gun club magazines from a basket next to the easy chair in the living room. My hope was that somewhere in one of these publications would be directions for loading and shooting the rifle. Mosey was comfortably sitting on the front seat of the Pinto, his leash dangling from his neck. I didn't think I would need to keep him on it because the dog barely moved. I ruffled his ears as I scratched his head. "It's just you and me boy, until we meet up with your daddy."

.

Hours turned into a day of sitting in traffic trying to get into the city. The military had the road blocked and wasn't letting anyone in. I heard the rumors that people were being shot if they tried to get inside. I didn't believe it but I wasn't taking any chances either. The first two days the military trucks drove up and down the shoulder of the road offering water to people and taking anyone who showed signs of illness. No one in our area went, but I did see a few people in the back of the truck heading towards Atlanta. I fed Mosey a hand full of food twice a day. I knew he wanted more but I wasn't sure how long we needed to make this stuff last. It was almost three days since I had eaten. I wasn't about to starve to death just yet but I was really getting hungry. What was making matters worse was a family in the car ahead of me had a BBQ grill that they used to cook whatever food they had. The smell alone was making my mouth water.

Every day I would take Mosey for a walk in the woods along the highway. He would do his business and I would do mine. I decided to take the bow with me and practice hitting my mark, a tree a few yards away. My arm was horribly black and blue from the bowstring hitting it. I also spent an obscene amount of time hunting for the arrows after missing every shot. Frustrated I tossed the bow into the backseat of the Pinto. The elderly gentleman in the car behind me offered some advice. He showed me how to hold the bow and take aim. I was impressed with his knowledge.

That night I sat in the Pinto feeding Mosey a dog bone. I was desperate, I kept telling myself that it was insane to think about it but I was. How nutritious was a dog biscuit? I chose a green one thinking it looked as close to a vegetable as I could get. I took the tiniest bite shocked by how salty they were and how much I wasn't repulsed by that taste. I ate it and two more. Mosey whined his dissatisfaction that I was eating his treats so I gave him another one. "That's it though, we have to share."

The morning came and I locked up the Pinto once more heading out to the woods with a couple sheets of toilet paper and the knowledge that Milton had shared with me about the bow. I tied Mosey to the tree and set my feet, taking aim at my target. I hit the tree and almost cheered. Because I couldn't make noise I silently cried instead. I practiced for an hour hitting the mark almost every time. My new found ability got me to thinking I could hunt for food. I came back to the camp empty handed deciding to ask for help again. Milton and Sara were happy to talk to me and he suggested I try whistle pig. I gave him a look of confusion and Sara filled me in that he meant groundhog.

"They are the dumbest animals. All you do is whistle and shoot when they pop up."

That afternoon I returned from my walk with a tear stained face while holding a dead whistle pig. I was just in time to witness the military truck leaving with the grill family's husband/father. He looked horrible and the wife and kids were terrified. They hadn't used the grill since yesterday morning. I decided this was my chance. Mary was her name and the kids Trevor and Ashley told me they had run out of food. I promised that I would share my kill with them if they let me use the grill. The groundhog was a tough piece of meat but it was food. I shared with Sara and Milton too because if it wasn't for them I wouldn't have had success.

By day five Milton had showed me how to load and unload the rifle. I had yet to fire it but felt comfortable enough with the weight of the gun and taking aim. He showed me how to prepare for kickback so the gun wouldn't knock me on my ass. I told myself that I didn't need to use the rifle. I convinced myself that it wasn't because of fear. I didn't need the rifle because my ability to use the bow and arrow had improved enough. I shot the Easter bunny, a couple more groundhogs and a snake. The snake was out of necessity because I had yet to learn what was poisonous. I hadn't planned on cooking the slimy bastard but Milton insisted I do after he told me it was harmless. I also learned snakes aren't slimy. I felt guilty wasting the meat and at this point in time food was food. I was building a strong community with my "neighbors" who all decided we had skills and supplies that could help keep us all alive. Milton and Sara butchered my kills. The kids, Trevor and Ashley helped me gather fire wood for the grill and Mary was our cook. We also met a couple; Kyle and James who offered what they had in can goods. That night we had a stew that fed us all.

Right before sunset our group got an addition, Tonya. She collapsed from exhaustion while riding her bike into Atlanta. I gave her some water and let her sleep in the front seat of my car. Moze was not thrilled with the idea that someone had taken his spot but I figured he would get over it. After Tonya ate and had a little more water she began to look better. I convinced her that riding a bicycle to Atlanta was a bad idea and I offered to have her "room" with me and Moze.

I found myself thinking about Daryl that night. I hated the fact that he had been far from my mind the last few days. The reality of that stung and made tears well in my eyes. I would give anything to be with him, show him that I was an asset to this new world. I wanted him to know I survived. I hoped to hell he had too.

Turns out even as an old man, Moze was one hell of a hunting dog. I stopped putting him on his leash letting him sniff out the game for me. He would lazily sniff around the ground walking slow like normal but as soon as he had a sent he would still his body like a statue. He could stay like that, frozen in time forever if I didn't react to his cue. I always gave him some browned fat and a little meat as a thank you for being such a good dog.

It was early morning day seven that I set out on a hunting trip going deeper into the woods than before. I came across a creek. I damn near jumped in excitement. Finally water! We could boil it so it was safe to drink. I would come back here later this afternoon to fill our containers. Right now though I had my eye on some large fish swimming in a deeper pool of water made by a fallen tree. Shooting fish in a barrel right? I found out it wasn't that easy. It took many tries until I finally speared one. I was taking aim at a second when Moze let out a low growl. He sounded vicious and put himself between me and whatever the threat was in the thick overgrowth. One of the dead pulled itself through the underbrush. Mosey stalked it, growling at the once upon a time human. I couldn't tell if it was male or female as it pulled it's self along the ground. The dog wasn't fearful of these creatures. I on the other hand was terrified Mosey would be eaten. That fear sent a surge adrenaline rushing through my body making me react. I shot three arrows into the thing but it kept coming.

"Mosey, come!" The dog ignored me. We could run away if he would just listen. I had to do something I had to save Daryl's dog. Mosey was all I had left of Daryl besides his clothing that I was wearing. I don't remember pulling the last arrow I had out of my dead fish. I just can recall setting it, walking as close as I could to the dead. I took aim and shot the creature in the head. It didn't move again and I fell to the ground shaking uncontrollably. Mosey curled up next to me. "You stupid mutt!" I wanted to swat him but instead I picked him up onto my lap and cried into his fur. "You could have been killed." I don't know how long I sat there. It was enough time to stop shaking and to empty my stomach into the dirt. I learned that you had to shoot these things in the head to get them to stop. It was valuable information, something I really didn't want to know, something that I had to know to survive.

.

I was about to have the grossest experience of my life, pulling my arrows out of a corpse. I got three of them but couldn't bring myself to pull the one out of the head. The others came out with a sickening suction sound that had me gagging. I rinsed them off in the creek, picked Moze up and ran for the highway. Halfway there I had to put the dog down.

"We barely eat Mosey. So why do you still weigh a ton?" He licked his man bits as if that was the secret. I caught my breath deciding it was okay for him to walk the rest of the way. A couple of feet into the twenty five yard hike we had left I remembered my fish. "Damn it I forgot the fucking fish!" I was pissed off because it took forever to kill that bastard. Mid rant the sounds of high powered weapons sent me sprawling to the dirt. It was off in the distance near the highway, but echoed through the woods sounding like it was coming from everywhere. I ran, carrying Mosey again, stopping just shy of the clearing. I silently begged Moze to be quiet. The dog must have sensed what I wanted because he got into his frozen pose as if hunting. We arrived in just enough time to witness a group of military personnel climb into the same truck they used to cart off the sick. I watched them drive away. Down from our section of highway laid the crumpled bodies of all the people I had lived with this past week. I grieved for them. I didn't know what happened or why my friends were killed. When I came out of the woods I could see others further down standing on the side of the road staring in the direction the truck had gone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The sound of gunfire echoed in his mind as Daryl bolted up out of his bed. The shooting was a figment of his imagination so he sat still for a minute trying to catch his breath. His heart threatened to jump out of his chest. He hated these nightmares and cursed them. How was he supposed to fulfill his duties at watch tonight if he couldn't get any sleep? When he stepped out of the RV Dale moved to the edge.

"Is everything alright, Daryl?"

The concern he heard in Dale's voice made him angry. He lashed out. "Yeah, just fucking beautiful! How the fuck do you expect me to sleep if you're pacing up there like a caged animal? I'll sleep in my damn truck!" He stalked off to the woods faking the need to take a piss. Daryl felt like he had a two ton elephant sitting on his chest. "Great maybe I'll keel the fuck over from a heart attack!"

He thought he heard Merle's voice. "Only the good die young brother."

"Yeah then you must still be alive, ya prick!"

Daryl made his way back to the truck, climbing into the cab. He hung his crossbow on the gun rack. Propping his feet up on the open window of the passenger side door, he closed his eyes trying to get some sleep. The screams and machine guns played like a loop inside his head. Sweat poured down his face, pooling in the hollow of his neck below his Adam's apple. He used a rag from his back pocket. It was one of the grease towels from the garage. He took a long look at it, remembering…

.

**Road to Atlanta:**

Daryl used the corner of a rag to wipe a bead of sweat from his upper lip. The freeway on ramp was jammed packed with cars. With the bike he could easily ride along the road to look for her but Merle wasn't budging. He shoved the rag back into his pocket when a second burst of gunfire echoed around them. This time it was closer. He heard children crying and women scream. Soon this area was going to be in complete chaos. Merle stood in front of him. He was so close that Daryl could feel his breath as he shouted.

"They're killing them all. Did you hear me boy? I said they're shooting them all. We best keep moving! Or do you want to be one of them fuckers with a bullet here?" Merle jabbed Daryl in the forehead with his finger.

"Will you knock it the fuck off! Yeah we got to get off the highway now. But screw you I'm not heading north. Go if you want, I'm staying here." Daryl climbed back into the truck. He made a U-turn driving the wrong way down the shoulder of the road. He looked in the rearview mirror watching as Merle started the Harley and followed him.

Once Daryl was off the highway he drove to the service road that led to the quarry. He didn't give a fuck if Merle liked it or not. The Quarry was close enough to the highway that he could walk along the road and see if he could find her.

Merle cut the engine of the hog just as Daryl climbed out of the truck. "So you want to rough it, little brother? Fine by me. You remember to bring the tent?"

"What the fuck do you think? Besides I didn't see you getting anything together."

"All I need is right here." Merle wiggled his belt buckle indicating the gun he had down his pants. "What's the matter you get your period? Is that why you're so goddamn bitchy? You ragging it? I knew it! You lost your balls to your girl and now you got a pussy!"

Daryl threw the rolled up tent at him. "Shut your fucking mouth!"

Merle ran at him. "You listen here if I want any lips from you I'd scrape it off my zipper!" He grabbed Daryl's face digging his fingers into his cheeks. "I've had about enough of you. More than I can take. You're gonna to listen and you're gonna listen good!"

A second later they were on the ground throwing punches until Daryl screamed, "Enough!" Jumping to his feet Daryl flung his arms in the air. "I don't have time for this shit, I have work to do!" Daryl grabbed the crossbow and stalked off!

Merle laughed at him spitting blood on the ground. "That'll do boy, that'll do."

.

**JOY:**

I had to wait until the truck went back to the city before I could get the hell out of here. I didn't want to drive down the shoulder and risk running into them. I figured better be prepared to bolt as soon as possible so I mentally made a list of the things I needed. Mary had one of those long candle lighters to light her grill. That was important. Also she had canteens, I grabbed those too. I felt horrible doing it but I took Milton's hunting knife. I had watched him gut the animals, learning a lot about it. I glanced at the bodies of my friends. I couldn't bring myself to get closer to them out of fear that maybe they had the virus. Tears rolled down my face.

Panic set in. I wasn't going to get out of here alive. Not on my own. The few people I saw standing along the road were now busy grabbing everything they could carry from their car. I ran to the closest group. The woman shielded her son, pushing him back. I wasn't thinking about how I looked to them. I was filthy and sweaty. I guess I could have been mistaken as the sick. A dark haired man with a police uniform pointed a gun in my face. "Back up now!"

The woman's panicked voice made me back up more than the gun did. "Shane, we've got to get out of here!"

The man named Shane pushed his gun closer. "You were with that group! Somebody sick?" When I didn't answer his tone got lower as he demanded, "Answer me! Was somebody sick in your group?"

"Not with me, I'm alone. But they took a man from the car ahead of mine. I heard the shots. I hid in the woods until they left. I'm not infected! I just want to know what happened. "

Shane lowered the gun but he wasn't giving me any answers. "Get out of here." I didn't move right away. He pointed the gun at my head. "I said get out of here! GO!"

I ran as fast as I could back to the Pinto. Grabbing Mosey, the canteens, and the bow, I fled into the woods. I was completely alone now. I couldn't trust anyone. The Army obviously was killing off entire groups of people. For what? Disease control? It was the only thing that made sense to me. Why else would they shoot them and leave the others? I had to get some water and sneak back to the pinto at night fall. It was the only way I was going to make it.

I hated the idea of going back to the creek. It seemed to take longer to get there this time. I believed it was my impatience and the fact that I couldn't carry Mosey. He stopped to mark a tree every so often and I tried not to get annoyed with him. "Let's go mutt, we have to keep moving. I can't miss seeing that truck return!"

When we got to the creek Mosey dove into the water drink as much as he could. I wished I could afford the luxury. I couldn't though, not until it was boiled. Something caught my attention with the dead I killed. My arrow was gone. "How did that happen?" I couldn't figure it out and didn't have time to think about it because Mosey ran away. I followed in the direction the dog ran, cursing him under my breath.

.

**DARYL:**

The fight with Merle had Daryl so pissed off that he ended up walking deeper into the woods than he planned. He came across a walker sprawled out on the ground; an arrow was sticking out of its head. "That's pretty smart. Whoever shot you used their brain." He yanked it out, wiped the tip off in the grass, adding it to his collection. Daryl stepped over the body, skidded down the embankment to the creek. He filled his flask with water. Scanning the area he saw the fish and laughed. "Stupid, you ruined the meat. And here I thought you had brains." He tossed the fish back into the water and moved on.

A little further down the creek he found a deer mangled in a bloody mess. "Son of a bitch! Walkers!" Daryl scouted the area making sure whatever feasted on the deer wasn't still around. Satisfied that he was safe he shot a couple of squirrels. Daryl was almost giddy that his fuckwad brother was going to eat squirrel tonight. "Too bad I can't find a rat." His laughter died down when he heard rustling in the underbrush. He took aim ready to kill whatever it was. The sound of barking sent him to his knees. Mosey came running up to him, wagging his tail like a wild puppy. Daryl couldn't believe his eyes. Mosey was here. "Moze? Moze how did you? Oh God, it's good to see you boy!" Daryl hugged the dog and kissed his head. He couldn't keep his emotions at bay, tears threatened to fall. Then he heard her voice.

"Mosey get back here you dumb dog! Mosey! Where are you?"

Daryl jumped to his feet. "Joy? Joy!"

"Daryl?"

He could see her every now and then weaving through the trees, looking for him. "Over here Joy!" He started to go to her but stopped when she burst through the brush.

I couldn't believe it. I hadn't seen him in a week but it felt like a month. Here he was, standing in front of me with Mosey sitting at his feet. I hesitated another moment, not completely sure if I believed he was there. The raw emotion in my voice made it difficult to speak. "Please say something. I need to hear your voice so I know you're real."

Daryl crossed the distance his hands going for my hips. "I'm here baby, are you? Please tell me I'm not dreaming."

I touched his face. His facial hair feeling like heaven to me. The damn broke on my emotions and I struggled to speak. "Oh… Daryl…" I choked on my tears and he stole my breath, kissing me long and hard.

"Joy… I always thought I would find you! I never gave up. Never!"

I buried my face in his neck sobbing uncontrollably. If there was any doubt before that I loved him it was gone now. I knew my heart would forever belong to Daryl Dixon.

.

Daryl pushed me to arm's length. "Are you okay? You're not hurt, sick, wounded?"

I assured him that I was fine. He looked at me closer, pulled me against him, hugging me tight before shoving me out once again. He scanned my body.

"Are you wearing my clothes?"

He seemed really puzzled by that. I told him what happened, how I raided his dresser and cleaned out his house.

He shook his head in disbelief. "I was at your apartment looking for you!"

We let the ridiculousness of it all settle onto us. If one of us would have just sat tight a little longer all of this could have been avoided. It was too much for me to handle and instead of breaking down again I pulled it together and made light of the situation. "I am wearing your clothing, all of it, including your underwear."

Daryl smiled. His eyebrows shot up under his bangs as he looked down at my waistband. "Oh yeah? Let me see, I want to see!"

.

He backed me up to a nearby tree that was leaning to the left like it was about to fall over. Its roots were sturdy and the tree was very much alive although it looked half dead. Daryl tugged at my belt until it was open. I didn't think it was such a great idea, but his hand sliding into my boxers changed my mind. Besides, they were really his and he could do with them whatever he wanted. Mosey found a spot to lay down in some dried leaves. He had convinced me that he was more than capable in the watch dog department.

I leaned back against the tree allowing Daryl to pull my pants down. He straddled the base of the tree with his feet, taking advantage of the natural incline to lean into me. His hands were between us long enough for him to unsheathe himself from the confines of his pants. I kissed his neck over and over, encouraging him to take me. "I need you!"

He pushed into me making me gasp and bite my lip to keep from crying out. We both climaxed in a hell of a hurry. But a quickie with Daryl was better than any sex I'd ever had in my life.

.

.

He held my hand as we walked back to his camp. Merle was there and Daryl let go of me long enough to walk over to his brother. He threw a dead squirrel at him.

"My dog is dead huh? And you said I would never find her. We're taking the tent; you can sleep in the truck!"

Merle laughed, but he shot me the dirtiest look. "Fine with me, I don't take sloppy second to no one, not even my brother."

He pointed at Merle, "Watch your fucking mouth!"

I pulled on Daryl's arm to get him away from him. I loved that he was defending me but I didn't want bad blood between them because of me.

.

Together we set up the tent and then I gutted his squirrel. He watched me closely.

"How did you learn to do that?"

"You would be surprised what I learned. Do you know you can stop them if you shoot them in the head?"

"Yeah I learned that the first day, when I went to your place." Daryl abruptly stopped talking.

"What is it? What aren't you telling me?" I watched as Daryl took a couple of deep breaths. He was trying to gather the courage to tell me something. I touched his shoulder giving him encouragement.

"I had to kill a walker at your apartment."

He drew quiet waiting for me to draw my own conclusion. I remembered how sick Dutch was. Daryl must have saw the recognition in my eyes because he gathered me into his arms.

"I'm sorry. He changed, he was one of them. I thought he killed you."

"A walker? Is that what you called it?" Daryl nodded. I thought that was fitting of a name. Walker? Yeah that was just about right. "It's okay Daryl I know it had to be done."

Daryl shook his head. "You're some amazing woman and I think…" He reached for his crossbow and handed me my arrow. "I think this belongs to you. You really shot that thing in the head?"

I nodded. It seemed like fate that Daryl had pulled out the last arrow from my first kill.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The Walking Dead, AMC or any of their affiliates. This is purely for entertainment purposes and is a fan created fiction. This story does not reflect the actual Walking Dead series and doesn't claim to be anything but a fan (me) expressing my appreciation for the characters and the wonder that is The Walking Dead. All OFC's (Original Fictional Characters) are a product of my own imagination. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.**

* * *

><p><strong>This Story is based on what would Daryl's life be like before the outbreak. It does not go along the lines of the show and is completely from my imagination. It is rated M because it contains detailed sexual encounters, strong language and may not be suitable for all readers. Please follow the guidelines set by FanFiction regarding the ratings. Thank you for your reviews they are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!<strong>

**Life with Joy**

**Chapter 12**

I felt myself being poked in my lower back with a long, hard, thick, insistent shaft that belonged to an insatiable man. I was pretending to be asleep, teasing him a little. When he began to roll my nipple between his thumb and forefinger while kissing the back of my neck I couldn't remain quiet any longer.

"Mmmm, more…" I arched my back bringing my backside in line with his crotch. With a small movement of my hips I was able to rub against him, feeling him from tip to base. Daryl groaned, his breath hot and moist on my skin. His hand inched down my torso stopping shy of my hairline. "Don't stop." I was curious if maybe Daryl was put off by the fact that I hadn't been able to shave. I missed my razor and multiple other beauty products that had gone to the wayside when the world had turned to shit. Conditioner, oh I would die for a bottle of good shampoo and conditioner. I was grateful for the soap Daryl brought along, at least we had that. The sound of his voice broke me from my daydream.

"I like this."

To prove how much he liked it he curled his fingers, dipping them into my folds making me push harder against his erection. I was aware since day one just how talented this man was with his fingers yet I didn't want only that. I yanked his hand out of my pants so I could twist my body around to face him. Daryl put the two fingers he just had inside of me into his mouth. I watched him lick his finger tips and I almost came. I couldn't believe how a simple look or gesture from him made me so hot.

.

Daryl had rolled onto his back so I took advantage of the freedom to get up on my knees and open his slacks. I swept his boxers shorts out of the way, revealing his swollen member. With one hand down my pants and the other gripping his cock, I worked us both into gasping frenzies. I think he was enjoying what I was doing because he watched and made comments about how I should or shouldn't touch myself. Finally Daryl stopped me.

"No, that's my job. Let me do it. But first I have to get out of these."

He lifted his hips, sliding his pants and boxers down so he could kick them off. Mosey grunted his annoyance that he had to move. I followed Daryl's lead taking off everything.

.

I was still kneeling when Daryl scooted lower in the tent. He remained on his back but got up partway leaning on his left elbow. I wasn't sure what he wanted to do so I stayed perfectly still. He put his right hand on my ass and pulled my hips closer to him. His face was now lined up with my crotch making me sway on my knees with anticipation. I felt his tongue gliding on my thigh, moving up stopping only when his mouth covered me. He flicked his tongue and licked until I grabbed his hair with both fists. I was so unbelievably ready that if he as much as blew on my skin I would melt. Daryl smiled like he knew some dirty secret or won the lottery, lying back down he looked at me. All I could do was kneel on shaking knees trying my hardest to not move a muscle. The slightest stimulation and it would be over. I didn't want that, I wanted to cross the finish line with him not because of him. When I didn't respond right away Daryl showed his impatience.

"Will you please get the fuck on me? Now!"

.

My body had cooled down a little bit and I thought I could handle some contact, enough to make him as hot and bothered as I was. I did as he asked straddling him. He expected penetration but I chose to let him know what torture felt like. I was dripping wet from his mouth and my own body's response that he slid easily along my labia. I could tell this was making Daryl insane. He was grinding his teeth and twisting his face in agony.

Through clenched teeth he warned, "You're going to wait too long! I'm going to fucking explode!"

He pushed his hips up making his hood brush against my clit. I thought I could handle it but I couldn't, the contact took me to the edge immediately.

"Do you want this? Is this what you need?" I reached between us pulling him vertical so I could sink down onto him. I did it so agonizingly slow that Daryl's head tilted back and he jutted his chin out. It looked like his eyes rolled back into his head and his mouth dropped open. He gasped one word. "Again!"

This time though I only got up onto my knees enough to still leave his tip inside of me. When I sunk back down Daryl's hands gripped my hips.

"Oh… fuck… harder… now!"

He used his hands to lift me and shove me against him, bouncing me up and down on his lap with each word. He was hitting a spot inside of me that no other man was able to stimulate and I moaned my agreement. Tiny fireworks exploded in my core, spreading out to my limbs. I felt them in waves, renewed when Daryl grunted the words, "I'm coming…"

.

Spent I lowered my head to his chest, burying my face into his sternum. His lungs were emptying and filling rapidly making my head bob up and down. He put his hands over my ears and kissed the top of my head. When I looked up, Daryl's mouth was hanging slack jawed as he tried to get enough air to sustain himself. I kissed his lips, but he was unable to close his mouth enough to respond in time. As I touched his cheek I looked at his teeth. "You have a beautiful mouth, you're teeth are perfect. Everything about you is beautiful."

Daryl shook his head denying the compliment. "I was a lucky fucker, my teeth grew in straight. It's not like my fucking old man thought much about the dentist, or doctor visits."

He couldn't take a compliment without making it something negative. I longed to change that for him. He was still inside of me, but Daryl had gone soft so I slid off of him and lay down in the crook of his arm. We remained quiet for a long time just basking in the afterglow.

"We should get up soon, get breakfast and make camp a little more secure."

I gave him a kiss and scooted to my knees. With a smile I slipped on my underwear. "Do you want to make the coffee or should I?"

Daryl made a sound of pain. "Awww fuck… coffee!"

* * *

><p>I never was happier in my life than I had been this last week camping with Daryl. Even Merle had relaxed some. He still was an arrogant ass but he was grateful for the meals I prepared. I climbed onto the bike behind Daryl wrapping my arms tightly around Daryl's waist. Merle piped up.<p>

"You scratch my bike, girl and it's…" He dragged his finger across his throat while making a sick cat noise. I gave him a finger salute as we rode away.

I was shocked the Pinto was exactly the way I had left it. I assumed no one thought there was anything worth a value in that hunk of junk. If they looked closer they would have found the gun. After Daryl scouted around for supplies we could use in the empty cars. He tossed in clothing, a few can goods, and a pup tent.

"For Merle."

I smiled at him. "You are a great brother. An amazing man actually!" He waved me off once again. "It's true and I don't give a shit if you believe it or not but I love you and I don't love losers!"

Daryl stood in front of me. He pushed his chest out getting as close as he could without touching me. I thought he was angry as he stared at me, his eyes intense like smoldering ice. I thought he was going to yell maybe tell me to never say it again but he didn't. He put his hands on either side of my breasts just shy of my underarms. I wondered what he was going to do. He picked me up and put me on the hood of the Pinto, moving between my open knees. He wrapped his right arm around my shoulder and put his left hand on my tail bone. Pulling me roughly to him, he kissed me with equal strength and urgency. When he pulled back to look at me with the same icy stare I realized it wasn't anger I saw in eyes. It was doubt and fear.

"I know you don't want to hear it but I can't, not say it Daryl. I love you!"

"I want you to say it. I've never felt like this before."

He didn't say it back but I knew what he meant. Daryl loved me too.

.

He let me down of the car and I asked him what he thought about all the people being gone.

"I don't think they are gone. I think they are either dead or hidding. That's why we need to get this shit back to camp so we can further stake our claim. It won't be long before more people come looking for shelter and a good water source."

He put Milton's car into neutral and told me to back up slowly. I did and made contact with the little car. He kept waving me back. I felt the jolt of connecting with the other car so I pressed harder on the gas pedel. Finally Milton's Metro moved and kept going until it crashed into the minivan behind it. I had enough room to pull out and drive into the grass. Daryl was impressed with my k turn ability because he jumped on the bike and drove away.

.

We pulled into camp a little while later and sorted through the things I had brought with me. Merle inspected the magazines.

"Well if we run out of shit paper we have this crap. You couldn't have grabbed some of the playboys now could ya?"

"Why you need whacking material?"

Daryl laughed at my comment and Merle grabbed his crotch while giving me the finger. He walked away laughing and I realized the one way to win over Merle Dixon was play his game. I was fine with that, my daddy raised a smartass.

A tear rolled down my cheek and Daryl swiped it away. "Just ignore him."

"I'm not… because of Merle." I wiped my eyes with my shirt. "Really he doesn't bother me anymore. I was thinking about my parents." I didn't know if they were alive or dead. I hoped to hell that Florida was untouched by this horrible situation. The lack of planes and communications told me otherwise. Georgia wasn't an isolated case.

"Come with me."

Daryl stood up grabbing my hand. He took me to our tent and led me inside. As much as I loved Daryl I wasn't in the mood for sex. He surprised me by pulling me into his arms and holding me tight. Mosey was lying at our feet. He slept a lot the last few days. "I think the heat is getting to Mosey."

Daryl agreed. "I'll take him down to the quarry and let him cool off this afternoon. Maybe you could come along and we could have a little skinny dipping party. I knew it! Sex was always on Daryl's mind. I smiled at him giving him a lingering kiss. "Sounds like a plan."


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The Walking Dead, AMC or any of their affiliates. This is purely for entertainment purposes and is a fan created fiction. This story does not reflect the actual Walking Dead series and doesn't claim to be anything but a fan (me) expressing my appreciation for the characters and the wonder that is The Walking Dead. All OFC's (Original Fictional Characters) are a product of my own imagination. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.**

* * *

><p><strong>This Story is based on what would Daryl's life be like before the outbreak. It does not go along the lines of the show and is completely from my imagination. It is rated M because it contains detailed sexual encounters, strong language and may not be suitable for all readers. Please follow the guidelines set by FanFiction regarding the ratings. Thank you for your reviews they are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!<strong>

**Life with Joy**

**Author's note: **the final two chapters are split up between the group and Joy's time with Daryl. I am just going to mark each section to avoid any confusion.

**Chapter 13**

**Group**

Daryl spent very little time sleeping. He was jumpy and snapped at everyone. Lori had witnessed him talking to himself and screaming at Merle even though Merle was presumed dead.

Lori went to Rick determined to get him to step in. "You've got to talk to him."

"What do you want me to say? Lori I thought we were forcing him to stay with us and after Sofia was found Daryl would move on. I told him he could. I thought…"

Lori looked at Rick accusingly. If they had to go back out into the world they need all the help they could get. Sending Daryl away not only left them without protection it left them without their best source of food supply. "What! You told Daryl to leave? Rick that is insane we need him!"

Rick paced back and forth, wiping the sweat off his face with his hand. "I thought…"

Carol interrupted. "What did you think? Did you forget all the things Daryl's done for us? Did you?"

The death of her daughter changed Carol to the point where the sweet caring woman she used to be was gone, with the exception of how she felt about Daryl.

"I thought wrong, that's what I thought." Rick didn't want to admit that he believed with Daryl gone they would be allowed to stay on the farm.

As if to completely prove the point that he was unstable, Daryl dropped onto his back in the middle of a field. He tossed his remaining arrow into the air straight up waiting till the last possible minute to catch it before it hit him. He repeated the process again.

Lori leaned towards Rick, "What is he doing, playing a redneck game of Russian roulette? Go talk to him before he hurts someone!"

Rick approached putting his hand out and above Daryl's chest, preventing him from tossing the arrow again.

"What the fuck ya doin? Come to help? I thought you liked your gun better?"

"Come to talk. I know what you've been going through, with almost dying and the loss of Sofia. I did what I had to do. If you want someone to blame…"

Daryl looked at Rick like he suddenly sprouted two heads. He bolted to his feet. Shouting, Daryl pointed the arrow at Rick. "You don't know shit!" He started to walk away.

"Dixon! I do know. I know this was hard for you. I'm worried you're a danger to this camp and to yourself."

Daryl turned back towards Rick getting up in his face. Rick turned his cheek but he didn't back away. He listened to Daryl's rant letting him get it off his chest.

"You know? You know what's wrong with me? It's not Sophia it's not any of this fuckin shit! He threw the arrow into the ground with such force it stuck and vibrated. "Let me tell you something…" Daryl paused, took in a deep breath trying to maintain the scowl he had on his face. "When you have to look in the face of someone you love knowing you've killed them…" He could feel himself breaking, cracking around the edges and he ended up on his knees.

Rick had never seen Daryl show emotion like that. It scared him more than if Dixon had loaded that arrow into his bow and pointed it right at his heart. Rick got down on one knee in front of Daryl. "You don't think I know that? You don't think I understand how that feels. That, girl it was my fault, all mine. I left her alone." Rick bitterly exhaled. He carried that blame alone and Daryl had no right telling him he didn't know how that felt.

Daryl put both hands on his face digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, hoping it would rid him of the memories. Rick was about to get up and walk away from this jerk who didn't want help in the first place. But Daryl's words stopped him. "Joy, her name was Joy and it's my fault she isn't here with me. I loved that woman, I still love her…"

**Joy**

Later in the day I suggested that maybe we take a walk down to the water, cool off Mosey and ourselves like we had planned. Daryl agreed and went to get the dog. He was gone for a long time. The moment he came out of the tent I knew something was wrong. His beautiful blue eyes that I could stare at for hours were red rimmed and glossy with unshed tears. He took my hand once again leading me into the tent. Mosey was lying on his side, his little chest heaved with difficulty. He didn't move when I touched him, but I saw his eyes shift so he could look at me.

"Oh no… Moze. Please no!"

I leaned forward putting my face next to his, kissed his head, weeping openly. I could hear Daryl crying behind me as he put his hand on my lower back and one on his dog's head. Mosey took the comfort we offered breathing his last breath while Daryl and I stroked his fur and told him tearfully what a good dog he had been. Daryl tried to close Mosey's eyes after he passed but they refused to stay that way. I collapsed against Daryl's chest griping two fists full of his shirt as I sobbed.

We buried Mosey in a shallow grave because we didn't have anything to dig with. I placed a larger rock at the head of the grave as a marker. After a small silent moment spent staring at a dog sized mound of dirt I tried to move closer to Daryl. He was withdrawn and I assumed he needed space. I was proven correct when he marched straight for his crossbow and walked off into the woods. Mosey had meant so much to me and to lose him like this ripped my heart to shreds. I wanted the chance to cry alone and be angry over life. The tent where Mosey died would offer no comfort. I told Merle I needed a moment of privacy as I walked swiftly to a shallow line of trees we used as a restroom.

I thought I was alone when I crouched to the ground, covering my face. I felt an icy hand touch me I jumped up but the boy lunged at me. Although his face was blood streaked I knew him instantly. It was Trevor, Mary's son. I didn't know the boy had the fever and hadn't realized he had changed. Maybe that is why they were executed that day. Maybe Trevor had become a walker while I was in the woods. I screamed for Merle as I tried to fight off the teen. His determination to get to me was overwhelming and I felt his teeth sink into my skin. A shot rang out and Trevor fell onto of me. I pushed him off, backing away as far as I could get. I hid my arm from Merle as he cursed at me for not taking a weapon into the woods with me. When we got back out into the clearing Daryl was running towards us.

"What happened? Joy? Wait…"

I ignored his question running straight to out tent.

**Group**

As soon as Daryl dropped to his knees Carol tried to run to him but Lori grabbed her holding her back. It didn't stop Carol from dragging Lori to within a few feet of the men. Daryl never noticed her or the others as one by one the rest of them came, gathering around. Emotion from Daryl that wasn't anger filled shocked and confused the group. They all had to know if this was going to change their world again.

Once the ball was rolling Daryl told the story of his life prior to the group showed up at the quarry. Rick sat in stunned silence. He thought Daryl never loved anyone. He believed Merle was Daryl's only family. He looked at Lori then Shane and moved from there, questioning with his eyes if they had known any of this. Each member of the group shook their heads.

Daryl looked up, finally realizing that they weren't in the field alone anymore.

"Come to look at the freak show? Fucking entertainment huh? Fine I'll give you fucking entertainment!"

Daryl spread his arms out wide as he got to his feet. He spun around very much like he was playing the lead role in The Sound of Music. But instead of singing Daryl acted like he was center stage at a circus.

"Ladies and gentlemen I give you the fool. The fucking asshole who couldn't protect anyone from anything because he was too busy crying over his goddamn dog! Do you really want this guy helping you with your security? Do You!"

Carol went out to Daryl and grabbed his arm stopping his spin. She held on tight so he wouldn't get away from her. "Daryl you don't have to do this."

Rick shook his head." I think he does. I think he needs to say it, get it out before it eats away at him."

Lori gasped at Rick's choice of words. "I'm taking Carl back to the RV He doesn't need to hear this."

Carl refused to move. "No, I'm a man now! I'm part of this group too; I need to know what is going on!"

Carol screamed at Rick. "He doesn't need to open that wound again!" She turned back to Daryl and softened her voice. "Come with me, I'll make you something to eat and you can get some rest. I'll make sure no one bothers you."

Daryl looked at Carol with confusion in his eyes like he didn't even know who she was.

"He needs a mental hospital, not a bowl of soup!"

Dale glared at Shane and Andrea because she agreed with Shane's rude comment. He was tempted to mention the fact that Andrea could have used one herself a few days ago. "Everyone has their breaking point. Daryl has hit his. We should let him talk if he's ready. Be there for him."

The arguing continued with everyone trying to make their opinion heard including Daryl.

"You fucks don't know what you are talking about! I deserve this it's my fault! It's my fault!"

"Enough!" Rick shouted. These people sometimes worried about the most trivial things and argued about everything. He knew if they kept it up Daryl would clam up and go back to the brink of insanity. "Daryl let's take a walk."

"No! She's gone and I did it. It was me, I killed her!"


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to The Walking Dead, AMC or any of their affiliates. This is purely for entertainment purposes and is a fan created fiction. This story does not reflect the actual Walking Dead series and doesn't claim to be anything but a fan (me) expressing my appreciation for the characters and the wonder that is The Walking Dead. All OFC's (Original Fictional Characters) are a product of my own imagination. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

This Story is based on what would Daryl's life be like before the outbreak. It does not go along the lines of the show and is completely from my imagination. It is rated M because it contains detailed sexual encounters, strong language and may not be suitable for all readers. Please follow the guidelines set by FanFiction regarding the ratings. Thank you for your reviews they are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

Life with Joy

Chapter 14

JOY

Daryl was hot on my heels, entering the tent a second after I did.

"Joy, what happened why did Merle fire that gun?"

My voice came out in shaky breaths. "Because I'm dead Daryl, I'm dead!"

"What are you talking about, we are fine. It's going to be alright."

"It's not! I'm going to die and I don't want you to let it happen!"

"Joy I'll always protect you. You are not going to die. Stop it you're scaring me."

"I am, I'm going to get sick and I'm going to die. Please don't let me change." Daryl tried to grab me but I screamed at him. "Don't touch me, I'm infected!" I showed him the bite.

He looked at the teeth marks on my forearm. "No Joy, no! It's not a bad bite, it barely broke the skin."

"Stop it, please Daryl stop it. We've heard the rumors and we've seen it happen. You get bit, you get the fever it kills you and you come back as those… things. I want you to kill me. Promise me!"

"I…I… can't." His lips quivered when he spoke and I could see the pain etched into his face. "I won't I can't… I love you!"

Daryl stormed out of the tent. I curled up into a ball, lying on the bedding and cried. If Daryl couldn't do it I would ask Merle. I knew Merle would. I cried myself to sleep.

Group

Daryl had dropped to the ground again. He sat there holding his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth. Talking about her made him feel like a child. A hurt sick child.

Carol rubbed Daryl's bicep trying to comfort him. "I'm so sorry."

A tear rolled down Andrea's face and she batted it away with her hand. Shane scowled at her for her weakness, making Andrea move away from him. She took a step closer, looking at Daryl. "That wasn't your fault, don't blame…"

Daryl looked up meeting Andre's gaze. His mind changed back to the fierce person this group knew him to be.

"Not my fault? NOT MY FAULT! I shouldn't have left her alone!"

T-Dog came over sitting next to Daryl. "The grave was hers, wasn't it?"

Lori, Shane and Glenn exchanged looks with one another while Dale told Rick about the unmarked grave they found when they came into the quarry.

"Daryl you let us move her. You told us you didn't know who she was."

"Someone had to bury her right! You had shovels. I couldn't bare having animals get to her so I let you do it."

.

Joy

"Put her the fuck down!"

"No! I won't I can't!"

"Then I will!" Merle yanked on his pistol pulling it out of his waistband.

"You do and I'll fucking kill you!"

Merle had never heard Daryl talk like that to him. He wanted to pound some sense it to him but instead he dropped his hand to his side, pointing the gun at the ground. "You are just going to let her suffer? And you think I'm a cruel bastard!"

"What if she gets better and we don't give her the chance! She could survive. She can!"

Merle hadn't realized the delusions his brother was under. He could tell Daryl wouldn't listen to him anyway, so why try to convince him that she wouldn't recover.

Joy came out of the tent making both men freeze and stare at her. She had barely moved or talked in the last few hours neither of them thought she could get up and walk.

"Do it. Please! Daryl, please end my life now before this takes me. Why can't you do this for me?" Joy walked over to Merle lifted his arm and put the gun to her head. "Pull the trigger! Do it! I know you want to!"

Merle released the safety on his gun.

"Merle! Don't you fucking… NO!" Daryl lunged for her. Joy collapsed, falling backwards into Daryl's arms. The fight was gone as was her strength. He carried her back to the tent and laid her onto the bedding. "You are going to get better. You will, it wasn't bad I doubt you got much of the virus. You just wait and see."

Joy looked up at him as he wiped sweat off her brow. Daryl put a cup to her lips, trying to get her to drink some water. She refused and let it roll down her chin. Her eyes stayed open for hours but she stopped talking. The fever got worse in the wee hours of the night. Daryl soaked rags and his shirts in water, replacing them often in hopes to break her temperature. He pleaded with God to let her live, bargaining his own life for hers. She didn't show any improvement only got worse. He cried silently wishing he had followed her last request. His heart wouldn't allow him to do it because Daryl prayed for a miracle.

By morning he was out of water and Joy was burning up. He called to Merle but didn't get an answer.

"I'll be right back, baby." Daryl climbed out of the tent. Merle wasn't anywhere around so Daryl walked to the fire, lighting it so he could boil some water. As the water was sitting there cooling, Daryl walked to the edge of the trees to relieve himself. When he turned around he saw Joy had come out of the tent again and Merle pointing his gun at her. Merle wasn't close enough to make an accurate shot and even if she was pleading with him she would have to get closer to him.

"No!" Daryl ran towards them, he grabbed the crossbow engaging it before pointing it at Merle.

"She's changed! Can't you see it? Look at her boy, she's dead!"

"Don't you shoot her! I'll never fucking forgive you! Don't you do it!" Daryl's heart wouldn't let him believe she was gone even though he could see it with his own eyes.

The agony in Daryl's voice kept Merle from squeezing the trigger. But if she got closer he was going to do it. "What the fuck do you want me to do let her bite me?" Merle aimed at her face.

The front of the crossbow wobbled as his hands began to shake. Daryl screamed heaven ward. "Why…why the hell did you have to do this to her! WHY!"

The sound of Daryl's screaming made Joy change direction. She came at him growling like an animal. Merle took the opportunity to move closer but before he could get within accurate firing range an arrow sliced through the air and lodged into Joy's head. She staggered back and the fell hard to the ground. Daryl landed on all fours the crossbow still in his hand.

Group

Daryl had gotten back onto his feet while talking about Joy. Carol gasped when Daryl crumpled to the ground landing hard on his knees and his palms. She wrapped her arms around his waist putting her cheek next to his. It wasn't but a few days ago that she was on the ground and he was holding her.

"She was my first, my first everything."

Shane whispered "Your first kill..."

Andrea looked at Shane, "First time you mastered your weapon…"

Rick nodded, "Your first hard decision…"

Lori took Rick's hand "First love…"

T-dog helped Daryl to his feet, "You're first family…

Carol added, "First loss…"

"First disappointment..." Glenn looked at the house where Maggie was standing on the porch.

Dale nodded at Daryl. "Your first life with joy…"


End file.
